Poezja

Will an ambulance come and fetch him today,
to take him away to the hospital
where everything is different and smells of iodine
where they will radiate him once more?
Will he free from the treatment of radium
see the sun splash through an open window,
will he be allowed to eat a piece of stake
that was prepared medium, to his taste,
before his health does totally fail,
will he have the chance to notice weavers on the branches outside
with someone serving him tea or coffee?
Or will his wife’s voice clap like thunder
when he nears the end of his life
and force him to the cancer ward?