two-points

I am okay
with being here
but not
with being alive

the murmuring from outside
the half open
isolation room door
the motion
of my shallow breaths –
in
and out

they’ve all put up
with my crap
for half the night
as have I

and now
in two-point leathers
my left wrist
and left ankle
strapped to the side
of the gurney

with nowhere to go
but on my back
or on my side
I'm relieved to finally be left
with no option
but to rest