I had to go to the hospital in an ambulance earlier in the year. I keep trying and failing to articulate this poetically. This is the first thing I wrote, a few days after the incident, in the hopes (since abandoned) of rewriting it into a poem:
The back of an ambulance feels less important than it is. It is a constant moving serenity with the siren going distant but constant. I close my eyes because I’m blacking out anyway. I am not in control. I am passive: rolled around through halls and into cars and out of them, given shots, given the shakes, made drowsy, shot through with side effects. Time rolls away and then stops, wheeled into the ambulance ward. I feel comfortable until they tell me I can leave.
Another attempt made a few days ago, also the first real thing I’ve written since school got out:
Ambulance Haiku
fading in and out
sirens yell, the ground speeds by
faces float above
Tags: haiku, stream-of-consciousness
