Art that opens conversation...
Introduction to Asthma
Cacophony rising in his lungs,
oxygen level falling,
the muscles in his chest outmatched
by fists tightening around his airways
my seven-year-old son believes
he will die
but
Anyone who wants to kill me he says
would have to kill my Mom
first. If I went to Heaven, she'd
go with me. If I went to Hell,
she'd go with me. A stretcher
wheels him toward an ambulance -
not the time for lessons on Death's
disregard for protocol
and preference. I hug his eyes in mine
and breathe for both our lives.
All poems copyright Susan Eisenberg.
Poem
