The last thing I remember
is the Ark on the ceiling
and chatting with the anaesthetist
about how our little boy
loves the puzzle of Noah.

She says ‘this may make you feel
a bit drunk’ and I think of the joke
the nurse made earlier about patients
asking for vodka instead of tea.

The elephants are swaying in
two by two as they dye me blue
and my blood pressure
crashes through the floor.

Your face as I open my eyes
and ask you if you were worried.
We fit together our jigsaw of terror
till I realise just how close I came
to being swept away by the flood.

How much love is a prayer
for a tiny piece of dry land.


2 thoughts on “Anaphylactic

  1. Love the poem- though wish you hadn’t had taken to edge of precipice to write it. Aoife – so sorry to hear your news, wishing you all the sun and energy and love for your treatment and recovery. Eva Lewin


    • Thanks so much for your lovely message, Eva. Really wish I didn’t have this to write about but seeing as it’s happening, I might as well try and get a few good poems out of it 🙂 xx


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