Inflicted

Uniforms that used to be so clean, pure

Painted red, a passionate color

The twisting petals of a white rose

After someone stuck their thumb 

On the thorn 

The blur of the emergency room lights

Faces swimming in and out of my vision,

Taunting 

I see their mouths urgently working out words

Hear nothing save a pulsing,

The whir of blood rushing past my ears

It is hazy, as if I started to long at the sun

Sun

Son

What happened to my son? 

My arms jerk to grasp my stomach

I feel empty, flat 

What happened to my son?