The EMT with Charged Paddles Calls, “Clear!”
Save a life before breakfast
and the day is made holy. Put your
weight
over an open artery, then try to
believe
that you’re insignificant. We’ll get
there
when we get there. Our colleagues
are too busy to clean up
ambulance accidents.
We find them on the roads, our charges,
on floors, next to commodes,
on their near-to-last chances.
“Not today,” I tell gaspers,
“Not under these hands.”
The Ankle Weights Aren’t There for Exercise
Light
is
the step,
just touches
sidewalk beneath her.
If she levitates too often,
she won’t want the ground anymore, and
people will see.
They’ll see and wish to do the same,
or search for wings, clip
what they can’t
themselves
sprout.
Spite.
CP
Todd Mercer won the first Woodstock Writers Festival’s
Flash Fiction contest, and his chapbook, Box of Echoes, won the Michigan
Writers Cooperative Press contest. His poetry and fiction have appeared in Apocrypha & Abstractions, Cease, Cows, Mobius:
The Journal of Social Change, Postcard Poems and Prose, Right Hand Pointing,
and many other fine places.
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