Procedures

As my pen moves I imagine what she’s doing

Is she surrounded by the smell of death?

Perhaps she’s filling out a death certificate

Whilst I daydream at my desk.

The paper is blank, just like my heart

And the smell of coffee awakens me

Is she preparing a body for its last goodbyes?

Whilst I imagine my stomach swelling.

As she travels to the hospital

To collect a corpse

I fantasise about rushing

To the delivery room.

She witnesses the end of life

Every single day

Whilst I dream of starting new life

Every second of each day.

She says she loves her job

I often ask her why

But she never hugs me

When I start to cry.

She smells of hand gel

Cleanliness and soap

But it doesn't disguise

The fact that we can’t cope.

Our marriage is dying

Can we save its life?

All I want is a baby

With my beautiful wife.