The pumping of my blood is fine with me.
It flows through tunnels, then to my machine.
Since plugging in my body gets its needs,
yet parts that are supposed to be are gone.
Did a portal of tubing get misplugged?
They rolled me quietly into this tomb,
and stopped my slipping into life above.
My soul would like to move beyond this room.
I fear that I’ve been sorted for study,
a treatment plan that just wants my body.
Someone in a meeting has decided
that body and soul can be divided.
This Frankensteinish life I live for now,
brought by another’s Hippocratic vow
leaves me stuck between this world and next,
in a neutral spot where spirit is vexed.
Perhaps others live like this I wonder
sort of not here and yet neither yonder?
I’ll write a poem describing this blunder
when I am free of the life down under.