Blue Rhino

Blue rhino propane
exchange, a metaphor for
a life shortly lived.

Hooked to a machine
that keeps the human race fed
and alive longer.

Or maybe not that,
propane and butane flames near
suffocation point.

But, the blue is not
the color of flame, but the
color of breath death.

Snuffed out instantly
yet at an erosive pace,
by geology.

Lungs are not the main
target here since other parts
can malfunction too.

Little beans ridding
the tissues of bad compounds,
keeping the blood clean.

They break and the child
is hooked to a metal wheel
inside a steel box.

At the same time, her
auditory senses may
be fractured or frayed.

A plethora of
horrors can befall a child
of premature type.

How they long to see
that bundle of joy become
a snarky youngster.

How they long to see
her become a firecracker,
bombshell and spitfire.

Life is short and hard,
an inkling of a twinkling
on this long timeline.

Oxygen forced through
to keep the blue flame going
in an ice cavern.

To melt the red ice,
it must be fed or the child
becomes like red ice.

Just another tank
placed back on the rack waiting
for another fill.

She is a rhino,
tough as nails and made of fire,
one hot, rosy flame.