ICU Alfred Hospital, 1996

This was written after being intubated for epiglotitis. I was sick, but not as sick as most other patients in ICU. I would watch the strained faces walking past. Who were they visiting? What did they fear? Death was so close here.

And then I couldn't speak. My breath was given and taken by the equipment. I was too exhausted anyway.

A sullen grey has taken hold.

Time is suspended in drips

and silence. Nurses

quietly maneuver, whisper

necessities. They know.

Teetering near the brink

I am held by ropes of love

and gently, gently turned

but cannot speak of this.

Do they see that I know,

my children by the bed?

Do they see that I know