Ambulance Driving
The radio calls us; I flip on my lights
Peel onto the road; the world strobes red and white
The siren wails its bean sidhe cry
Says what we don't--someone's going to die.
We shoot down the road, through the remnants of night
"Your ETA?" "A minute. Three more streets--clear right."
I park by the cop cars. We assess, load and go.
I jump back in my cockpit, flip around nice and slow
Because there's no room for screwups, no scrapes or wrong turns
If I lose control of this thing, we're all gonna burn.
I'm eating up freeway; hell nips at my heels
Wide eyes on the road, white hands on the wheel
From way in the back, a noise, muffled curses
(My forbearers took their patients in hearses)
I throw open the doors; we unload this disaster
Blown IVs, chest compressions--if I'd just driven faster--
But no. Lift some weights, walk your dog, or (heh) write a poem,
But whatever you do, you can't bring this stuff home
We clear on the airwaves, catch a call as it drops
Oh summer child, did you think it ever stops?
About this poem
I wrote this between calls on paper towels. It's not about any specific call. I know it's a little dark but it's also the best job in the world.
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Written on December 25, 2022
Submitted by firstaidkit on January 31, 2023
Modified on March 14, 2023
- 1:01 min read
- 0 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABCCBBDDXXXXXAEE XX FF |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic hexameter |
Characters | 1,014 |
Words | 198 |
Stanzas | 3 |
Stanza Lengths | 16, 2, 2 |
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"Ambulance Driving" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/150293/ambulance-driving>.
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