With her back bent, and her eyes closed,

she is lost in a sea of blankets.

She says, and hears, nothing.


But still, she is lovingly brought,

The wheels of her chair turn,

As she takes hers.


In silence

A small island of aged skin is found

Yet there’s room enough – for her


To finally, fully feel,

The point of it all –

In the jab of a needle.

To read ‘I knew a man’, click here