I GOT THE MORPHINE BLUES

I woke up in the middle of the night
in excruciating pain in my lower back.
There are no words that speak as loud
as the blistering language of acute pain.
It pierces the sound barrier—dogs yelp,
cats scurry to find a safe place to hide.
I never violated all of the 10 commandments.
What sin have I committed to experience a pain
so blinding it leaves a taste of blood in my mouth.
Seated on a hospital gurney in a gown
with my ass exposed, I’m asked to rate
my pain on a scale from one to ten:
I scream: “Twenty!”
A shot of morphine shuts me up
as I fall into a delicious deep sleep,
reserved only for the best-behaved angels.