POEM: Remember to Breathe

BY EMMA LEE

Of course all the traffic lights were red, even the pedestrian
ones as my fingers drum the steering wheel in
rhythm to that urgent voice that urged
me into this rabbit hole of gridlock. I
can’t answer my mobile but know
it would be that same voice
again. Didn’t it get traffic?
Finally I exit into the
car park, swing into
a space, run four
flights two stairs
at a time, spurred
on by nurses
avoiding
eye contact
and

you
still breathing,
watching the breeze
ruffle the leaves on the cedar tree
confident I wouldn’t let you do this alone.

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