Of all the things that young ones find
when mommies look away
beads, bugs, matches, gum

Death you grasped in timid hands
you only meant to play
so pretty...look how it shines

Like any treasure for your age
you stuffed it in your mouth
thrashing, gasping, little breaths not lasting

But with all the miricles of the medical world
we could not make you spit it out
pupils fixed, non-reactive

You lay small and still and quiet
through all we did to you

While I inside begged and cried
to you and all the gods we knew
please, please, please protest

Throw up your little arms
against the pounding on your chest
go home to your own bed

And the peircing of the needles
and the tubes stuck in your head
please now, do your best

But you only lay there
small and still and quiet
and dead

Poetry by Kathryn Watson
Read 791 times
Written on 2007-04-19 at 01:56

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