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      December 24, 2011Kelly Cressio-MoellerWaiting for Charon in the ER

      Bad news is always arriving.
      —Adrienne Rich

      Make a fist.
      The ambulance ride
      begins with a deep poke
      into a surprised vein.
      Open. Close. Time-lapse photography.
      A lotus unfurling
      petals in my palm. I see
      sunlight breaking through crowns
      of eucalyptus. I breathe oxygen
      through a tube.

      I’d recognize his face
      anywhere: paramedic Gauguin,
      Civilization is what makes you sick.
      Is that why your Christs are yellow and green?
      Yes, and blue trees.
      What of the red door in the forest?
      We are never out of the woods.

      Gurneys glide gondola-quiet
      through corridored canals.
      An oarsman ferries me
      into an X-ray room,
      his shark tooth bracelet clangs
      against the metal buoy.
      I want to dive into
      his seafoam scrubs,
      breaststroke into March.

      The doctor orders a rainbow
      belt of slender vials.
      She pockets my blood
      in her jungle print top, swings
      on a vine, disappears into
      Rousseau’s foliage. I don’t
      see her again for 2 hours.
      She’s consulted the gorilla
      who was sitting on my chest.
      I eat red Jell-O with a spork.

      Time drifts through saline solution.
      A slow drip counts the day’s small hours.
      I have the room to myself.
      So tempting just
      to lie there waiting, stock-still
      with a coin in my mouth.

      Note:
      “Civilization is what makes you sick” is a quote from Paul Gauguin.

      from #35 - Summer 2011