Give me the pills she said – promise
when I want to you’ll help me take them all.
I don’t want to shit in my chair, feel worthless,
I want to choose with whom, how and when I fall.

Give me the drugs he said, I’ll take any chance
with science – if my skin drops off, my legs fail
and I lose all laughter. I might capture another
shred of life, a day when a cure is discovered.

She was 42, and he 83. And you?
Not ready to dispense magic potions of polar kinds,
not yet believing in lottery tickets, treasure finds
lucky charms and all newspaper headlines?

Danielle Hope