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  • Dilaudid
  • Lynn Levin (bio)

Timor mortis conturbat me.

When on my deathbed once Dilaudid knocked me back to the black cat’s fur, time spilt its ink, and the dark prince took me on my narrow hospital gurney. All was fathoms. I cared not for calendars or clocks, desk, or garden, or if I saw my husband more. I only knew the snake no longer flogged my gut, the dripped potassium no longer seared my veins. My soul was calm, desire gone, and fear of death did not disturb me.

Then hours, maybe a whole day passed. I came to, morning’d by the midnight sun of the nurses’ station. Easy friendly talk of picnics and weekends at the shore lapped at my ears. I thought of Dilaudid, the drug I loved, the hero drug, its foot upon the neck of pain. I didn’t need it anymore but could have asked, been zeroed back, known again the long black arms, the soul washed out to sea. But I knew envy then: envy of days that others picked like plums from countless trees. And fear of death disturbed me. [End Page 115]

Lynn Levin

Lynn Levin’s latest collection of poems is Miss Plastique (Ragged Sky Press, 2013). She is also the co-author of Poems for the Writing: Prompts for Poets (Texture Press, 2013). She teaches at Drexel University and the University of Pennsylvania.

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