Code Blue Five East
The voice calm through the loudspeaker,
lights blinking, footsteps striking the floor,
a doctor shouting orders. All of us related
by earth – clay, red, brown, when a heartbeat
stops—all of us rushing, hands moving fast.
It could be my child thrown from a motorcycle,
metal and bone meeting the road,
or my sister’s husband folding mid-step.
My mind fills the corridor with bodies
until the final all-clear breaks the spell.
I’m only here for tests, yet adrenaline
surges tight in my chest,
as if my name has been called.
As if every emergency is meant for me.
Each alarm linked by a scarlet cord of blood
