The Wreck
Twisting, spinning, upside down
Scraping, sliding sideways, air bags deployed
Blackness, calm, conscious, seat belt bound
visions flashing through his brain
Does not know who, someone has bled
Dash lights blurry, silence
"Megan, Megan!"
"Oh, my God, my daughter"
“Forceps..Clamp...watch the heart beat.”
“Doctor we’re losing him, No, he’s back”
“Dad, you’re hurt!!!”
“Hush sweet, I have to hurry
Your seat belt jammed,
My knife, I’ll cut it, you crawl away.
Call help on the Cell phone....
Must lie down”
“I don’t like those spikes, more oxygen, mo...”
“It’s no use doctor”, as the line went flat.
“I know. I must tell my wife her father died”.
Jul 03 2010 For Joe’s “poem that does not rhyme” contest
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