dear alexa grace

you kept me up last night

again

your nurse called for help

but i had no answers.

you looked frail in your bed, iv drips running in

both arms and a foot, the central line in your

neck pumping life-sustaining levophed and

vasopressin into your veins.

you froze when i entered the room, your eyes

accusatory. ashamed.

in one hand you held a syringe;

in the other, you clutched a saline flush

the nurse started speaking about white powders, but

i didn’t listen

the monitors held my attention

your heartrate was too fast

your blood pressure was too high

how are you feeling, alexa? i asked

you had chest pain, you said. but

you didn’t want me to come near, covering

the syringes with a blanket

hiding them

we were both scared, but for different reasons

cocaine isn’t allowed in the hospital

cocaine made your blood vessels spasm

your heart screamed for oxygen

but you wouldn’t let anyone near

what should we do? asked the nurse

oh alexa

what could we have done?

what had you done?

so many nights you keep me up

again and again

your chest pain resolved

(this time)

and the white powder in your room remains unfound

will you be this lucky next time?