Thursday, April 21, 2022

down the hill

 

I ride down the hill to the hospital

In the ambulance,

That follows the hearse,

Wondering which vehicle

Will take me home again.

The needle enters the arthritic knee,

Steroid and painkiller are pumped in.

The invasion crosses the border

And there is no anaesthetic for that.

I am old and

After an uneventful life

One part of my body after another

Starts to fail,

But I have the consolation of knowing,

That I have never ordered younger people

To go out and fight and die.

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