Not so sure about this poem.
Heartache
The monitor bleeped squiggly lines
as if it were doing a jig.
My heart rate was all over the place.
It is out of sinc I thought
doesn’t know which rhythm to dance to.
A nurse took blood, gave oxygen.
I needed air, fresh and pure
needed the drip in my veins
to make me waltz, instead of jive.
I crackled in a thin paper gown.
I was a puppet, entangled in wires.
A doctor told me to look after my heart
keep it safe, not wear it on my sleeve anymore.
Sally James
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