Stethoscope

Her stethoscope lingered over my heart.
She listened intently.
my pulse quickened,
my heart drumming to melodies monitors make ~
staccato notes of life and death.
As she leaned into what was left of my life
I saw her beauty
reflected in the polished disc of metal.
Her hand steady on my shoulder,
I tried to be solid ~
more than the half of me I have become.
Could she hear my desire to live?
To love again?

Her stethoscope pressed on my lungs.
I took a deep breath of her,
then exhaled my life.

Her needle pierced me.
Injecting hope into my fear;
flushing intravenous care throughout my being.
A tangled up puppet
caught in hoses, wires and lines of strings ~
uneven as my stumbling pleth
collapsed on my stage.
How could she find me
on this side of the boundary,
with the professional curtain pulled for privacy?
What is more intimate
than watching me die?

Her stethoscope was warm
where it touched me.
"Better." she said.
I agreed.

2023

Author's Note

I'm probably not the only guy to develop a bit of a crush on his nurse.