Cannula

attached, 

she can’t shake it off

a cannula

connecting her 

to a governing body,

they massacre 

under the guise

of oncology,

poke

poke 

poke 

prod

cut 

stab

inserting  

a draining 

tube,

my patience 

is a fuse

– lit!

-BOOM!

her trauma 

is my bruise 

pink

yellow

and

13 blues,

they don’t 

love you 

the way 

I do,

our time is 

limited

restricted 

to a care pathway

that doesn’t

care for you,

‘it sure as shit

doesn’t 

care for me’

sickness 

is greed,

it’s two 

for the price

of three,

they don’t 

know your 

beautiful

body,

they don’t 

care,

they don’t 

know 

your 

beautiful hair

is coming out 

in clumps,

I have a hunch,

sickness 

is big business,

barcodes,

wrist bands,

with my 

wife’s 

name on,

they’re writing 

our swan song

in the key of D

they don’t

see what 

I see,

they don’t

love you 

the way 

I do,

these bastards

with their 

failed machinery

disgust me,

no one loves 

you the way 

I do