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Lawrence Hall Jan 30
Lawrence Hall

                                 When the Ambulance Arrived

When the ambulance arrived the medics
Pushing and pulling the gurney in and out
Knocked the latch from the jamb, which no one noticed
But later someone else found the door open

I walked across the road with a bag of tools
And fixed the latch with a couple of screws
Easily enough, a wooden door that opened
To Christmases and homecomings and life

The door is now secure, but I don’t think
The owner will ever walk through it again
A poem is itself.
Freddy Escamilla Sep 2020
I sit beside you,
two sets of eyes glued to a splotched canvas before us.
I in the driver’s seat,
you in your captain’s chair.
I’m asking all these questions, but,
are you really there? I worry
when I look at you, and the
shock is painted on my face.
Others pass me under the moonlight and
tell me to leave this place.
They say, “you better get outta here, and get
while the getting is good.
This job will turn you inside out
and make you misunderstood.”

I sit beside you,
two sets of eyes glued to the canvas, as if it will restore us.
A cassette tape is forced through my brain,
the night’s events replayed.
My finger tap upon the glass,
and your hair is frayed.
Your figure in the captain’s chair,
with skin as cold as tin.
Which one of these got to your bones,
which one did you in?
Do you remember sights and sounds,
you wish you could forget?
Is that look upon your eye,
one of anger or regret?
Trauma is etched into your skin
like cracks on a weary canyon rock.
I need to know how you turned to you
if only you could talk.

I sit beside you.
Our eyes are glued to the splotched canvas, that which holds nothing
for us.
I work in an emergency ambulance. I was green, enthusiastic and filled with a sense of altruistic fulfillment. This attitude later became confusion and concern that I made a mistake as I continuously met people who seemed to have stared into that proverbial abyss for too long and became emotionally corrupted by it.
Freddy Escamilla Sep 2020
Ruby Red, Ruby Red
sweet voice in the cab,
slowly land as my fingers unfold;
freeing the steering wheel.
It’s like I’m in motion,
to catch the rainbow bird that beats its wings
to the song that you once had showed me.
Ruby Red, Ruby Red,
your smooth velvet lipstick
is pressed upon my wildest dreams,
and has painted me pink
Tender breath, sensual mist,
dancing upon heavy eyelids
warmed up and fluttering towards the sun,
that’s rising through my windshield.
Ruby Red, Ruby Red,
the city, it's called again.
I’ll tell you all about it,
if you visit me again.
Ruby Red, Ruby Red,
won’t you stay a little longer?
The show is better with you pulling the strings
upon my driftwood mind.
Ruby Red in my head,
you’re a sweet lost fabrication
placed at the center of my table
by the watching stars.
Ruby Red you’re in my head
You are the color of passion;
gone when the morning sun
breaks past the horizon.
Amber K Sep 2020
Every time I here sirens,
I think of you.
I think of the lights I saw.
The reds and the blues.
I had no idea it was you.
And to this day,
I still flinch at the thought,
that it could be someone else I care about.
Shared from my drafts. About the day I lost a friend to suicide.
Gracie Anne Jun 2019
Sherri can you hear me?
I'm sitting in my bathroom,
I've got a bunch of pills
And I'm ready to meet my doom.

Sherri can you hear me?
I'm almost ready to die.
I called you for one reason,
I wanted to say goodbye.

Sherri can you hear me?
Please don't call nine-one-one
Nothing can help anymore.
It's all done; I'm done.

Sherri can you hear me?
One, two, three, four.
Counting pills, ready for death
Oh no, they're at the door.

Sherri I gotta go,
The ambulance is here.
My wrists are sliced real bad
And my death is getting near.

Sherri I'm so scared.
Lights and sirens are on high.
They're sticking stickers on my body,
My death will soon be nigh.

Grace can you hear me?
My heart's beating too fast.
I'm seizing, once, twice, three times,
This day will soon be my last.

Grace, stop, stop!
I'm pulling out my needle
Barely aware of what's happening
My body's turning feeble.

Grace, why did you do it?
I'm now being interrogated.
Summit Ridge or Peachford?
To the hospital I am fated.

Mom can you hear me?
It's finally visitor's day.
I'm so anxious, I love you lots
Please mom, will you stay?

Grace did you hear me?
You're going no matter what.
Skyland Trail's the next step,
No ifs, ands, or buts.

Mom can you hear me?
I miss you too much.
Please. come pick me up,
I really miss your touch.

Friends can you hear me?
You're help was invaluable.
A Thank You goes to everyone
My recovery is beyond admirable.
Sherri is my therapist btw
JT Nelson Jun 2019
We heard the screech
Then the pop
Of metal on metal
Or metal on wood
It’s hard to tell the difference
When you’re half asleep

People were running
To it and from it
People afraid that they’d
Be sent away
Away from their babies
Others stopped them and calmed them

My thumbs wrestled
With dialing 9-1-1
But I described it best I could
As quickly as I could
And as accurately as I could
Then we waited.
Traumatic situation all around tonight in our “hood” as a mom with children jumped the curb and hit a pole or tree then took off from the scene as she was afraid that she’d be deported or put in in jail or something. One by one the emergency personnel showed up and we made our way home. Lights and voices still thick behind us. Scary.
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
Panicked mechanical howls
echo off the silver moon
blankets the summer crisp air
blending in with the ghosts of the weeds
and the angels in the trees
flashing lights blocading the streets
in hopes of preventing tragedy
every night it’s Hamlet out on this street
this stage has been played a hundred times
the ending never changes
Sharon Talbot Jul 2018
A subsonic growl emerges
As the red wolf plunges forth
From his concrete cave.
He shoulders aside the weaker creatures,
In his rush, for the men inside
Live for the hunt.
The siren howl is high at first,
Wild and eager, hysterical.
As he gains his stride
On the pavement path,
His whine swings into a rocking pulse,
Keeping time with the fire,
Or the blood spurting from a man.
Behind the pack there is a white dog,
Sturdy and square, trained and sure,
With a lyrical howl.
He keeps pace yet there is no lust
For the hunt, no need for blood.
They circle the waiting disaster,
Disgorging men in black and white,
The hulks rumble as they wait.
Wolves lick up the flames
While the white-dressed men
Lap up the blood.
The wolf prowls as the flames die
But stands guard as the
White dog points to the man.
He has chosen to save.
A fire truck roared somewhere in town and it made me think of the growl of a wolf. The white truck is obviously an ambulance and the white wolves are EMT's! I know, it's absurd imagery but I had some fun with it.
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