One more day

Without Hope, by Frida Kahlo

The smell of hospital

in her nostrils heavy,

always complaining about it

White upon white and more white

sheets, walls, nurses

she thinks she should have taken with her

pencils and brushes

she would paint blue skies 

and red tubes against green, 

reminding her poppies 

in that meadow 

back then when she was 18...

or a balcony

just like her own back home...

Home...really,

where was that, she can't remember

For a while, when the pain is gone, 

time smiles at her, another hour, day maybe

being thankful for it, being thankful for it...

all these tubes and machines

-can you please make that noise stop?- 

same request every day

-can you please make the pain stop?

Friends come and go, 

and she is there

trying to fool everyone

that she has yet

one more day to live...