Ecoptic

September 17th, 2017 Posted In: Writing Tags: 2017, Birth, Children, Death, Poetry

Ectopic

So missus, how are you?
Going home now, that’s fine
You wait two months now
Before trying again

Aye right son, trying again
As if my battered bones
Will ever move again without creaking
After that guid hiding

After that nasty surprise
That dragged me out of bed
And threw me out to sea
In a very small lifeboat

And left me to drown there

The nurses are hauling off the sheets
And he just keeps on yakking
Do you understand?
Do you understand what happened missus?

Do you understand?
The machines and the scans and the blood
The needles and the stumbling
And the prayers sent up at midnight

Yes I understand, understand
And where does that leave me?
Empty, bloated, scarred
No need for that wee jacket

That I dared to buy

It happens. One in a hundred
And becoming more common
If he says I can always have another
I will slit his throat