“for the cticu nurses”

in and out of rooms
a fixture of life-lines
and sullen window views
the inorganic machinery of ticking time
we push toward the dimming monitors of light
the swollen heart of humanity
trading their mortal coil for a feast on the other side
we nurse those fading morphine visions
with soft voices that flow like warm milk
over the rough edges of sentiment
a basket of blood orange kisses
shared on the outdoor stages of flickering light
the heart pounds and swoons
we breathe in notes and symphonies
we find the buttery flame
it sends you on your way
and guides you on to distant shores
to find the verse and the sweet siren singing
so look deep into the chest of secrets
or know not what you lost
for there in the bewitching wilderness of dawn
you find the one you love
you carry her on fast-wings to safety
swearing never to fall from her again
but you are thwarted
by the unfeeling agents of change
now back amongst the whispers and the wires
you are trembling in the air
falling through captured spaces
wounded once again
and when the cycle starts
all over it begins
you find that it is you
in the end…

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 1/27/12


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