i have two DNAs one belongs to my old

self the other one is my sister’s
i don’t know how to write about illness
i write about fall fever & hope
someone would read between the lines
there usually was someone who would
check my pulse draw blood hook
me up to an IV change my bedsheets
wash the floor the toilet the sink
bring in the food close the blinds wipe
off my sick change my bedsheets
take the food out uneaten help me
to the bathroom no modesty left
after a while even when i was
discharged what’s the point everyone
had seen everything     i never felt
more unseen except that day
someone stopped outside my reverse
airflow room & peeked in she was
pale she was old she was wearing all
black for a moment i thought
i was a goner then she moved on & i
lived     down the hallway someone
cleaned out the room for a new patient