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.
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