I recall years ago, rubbing a scratchy hospital sheet
between my fingers, its coarse fibers colliding with my
fingertips…back and forth, back and forth…my mind
all the while cavorting in thousands of shapes and
directions that all led back to: I won’t be able to finish
my paper in time.
 When the world is blackening out
and dancing away from your grasp, the only thoughts
your brain can muster up its cells to register are ones
that have quite nothing to do with anything at all.

God and I fought that day.
I begged Him to tell me why
my story was getting filled
with such horrific happenings,
and why a girl who pours
herself out to be perfect
for those around her, should
not be thanked for her efforts.
I demanded He ask for my
forgiveness. He would not.
I will tell you what He did, though.

Through all my
fighting and through
my audacity and
refusals to listen
to what He said,


The monitor beeps, and I lift my head
to discover that she has not yet flatlined.

The End

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