...w h i t e...

White the noise the wheelchair makes
But in the nebulous time it takes
To rise and walk to seat and sit
I have already forgotten it.

White the chalky oval pill
When upon my lips it will
Anticipating forgotten bliss
Dissolve itself into a kiss.

White the sheets upon the bed
White the dressing upon my head
Now stained with a runnel of red
As I spilled when I should have bled.

But whiter far by leaps and bounds
As you could tell by how I sound
Is the light behind the blaze of pain
When it strikes, and then strikes again.