With thanks to Kelly Davio
I do not think of the lights I’m wheeled beneath;
how many bright corridors I’m funnelled through.
I do not think of my elliptic swelling,
of how much this theatre gown exposes.
I do not think of holidays, of England,
nor of the cannula’s foreign incursion.
I do not think of death, statistically,
of my slip into unconscious abstraction.
I do not think of anything, just river
with the stars – wade into them, forget myself.