Billy Miller’s Blood

Billy Miller rides the RTA
to the clinic twice monthly
for shots that tell her bones
to make more blood. When she asks, Am I dying, nurse?
you tell her she is not dying. Every time.
She says, Look at me,
Nurse. You say, I’m looking
at your numbers, Billy.
What do they say?
You tell her they say she’s beautiful,
You tell her they say the lake’s extra blue today,
You tell her they say Al needs you.
She tells you, No shit, nurse. But am I dying?

You tell her, not today.

Cliff Rocks Blossoming

A patient in the pit believes you are going to kill her
with dirty needles and bad blood work. Angel

calls out to you, “Pretty please, nurse,” for a boxed lunch, a cab
voucher. Double-doors open to waxed floors,

to gurneys rolling over spilt coffee. Angel tells you she owns
three kids “who are thieves and fail me through theft—” You’ve heard

it’s common among victims of illness to seek a cause,
a trigger, some branch office to blame. A doctor you once knew

was granted a month of paid and [un]requested
leave. Upon death, you call First Call for Life, prop head of bed 45 degrees,

place ice pack over eyes. After death, a priest signs the chart to prove
he came when he was called, or soon after. You administer

unrequited love and sometimes cry on duty
despite this. Don’t worry, that’s how you know it’s a real

ER. To make room, you move patients to hall beds and call them
campers, the ones who wait to camp somewhere else. Angel

camps unhappy in the hallway, waiting for Mobile Crisis
to send her somewhere else. (you set her up with a boxed lunch,
you tell her sorry about the cab voucher, then) you swipe out.

At the end,
of the shift, it’s true,
you go down to the lake
with every intention
to witness a small miracle
like cliff rocks blossoming
or the sound of gulls.

Ellen McHugh a retired emergency room nurse and adjunct English composition instructor at Lakeland Community College, received her MA in English from Cleveland State University.  Her poems have appeared in Whiskey Island Magazine, Agape Review and Litbreak Magazine. Her family and her community remain her passion—along with poetry, painting and protesting (for a more kind and just world).