We placed a camera, <br />down through the tube <br />they call esophagus, <br />and aimed it at her heart. <br />I held the tube, <br />it was for her, <br />and I would keep <br />one in my hands <br />if it did glow <br />with fiery heat. <br />There was a small <br />but still, a leak, <br />the pulmonary valve, <br />which is the best one can <br />and would expect. <br />Once past the age of birth <br />it matters less, <br />but now we wait. <br />Will there be staph <br />that leaves its hiding place, <br />to swoop and colonise, <br />to maim and kill, <br />by squatting on the edge, <br />to cut and strip <br />until the pressure drops <br />and hope as well as life <br />forever stops.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/endocarditis/
