IN THE CITY’S BACKYARD

in the ward of the public hospital two rows of chairs

where patients take their chemo

their dated coats the liverish

purpled blues and greens of gall

from their throats a phlegmy rattle

faces racked by life

each one’s machine

runs fluid down a tube

to a needle in the arm

ticktack ticktack

life meters out its beat

poisons seeping in

attack the metastases

foul air, tainted food

war in the city’s veins

the patients endure

sitting quietly, listening

ticktack ticktack

the measure drawn from life

through backyards crawls the virus

purple, blue, amber, Malachite green

the city hears its pulse