Velvet by Will Collins

At work
The phone rings.
I have an ache in my head,
18 patients asking for pain pills
and solutions.
I’m only 25
What do you want?

“How’s William?”
she asks on the other end.
I’m fine,
But she doesn’t mean me.
It’s William down the
Hall room 124,
His heart is weakening, fingers and toes
Cold,
Breaths choppy and sometimes don’t come at all
With a gurgle in his chest
Of what end of life
Sounds like.

I tell her in fewer words
“No change in condition,”
I say,
“We are managing his pain,
His anxiety.”

The voice on the phone thanks me,
“He’s a very distinguished man,”
she says.

I pause,
What to say,
How to respond,
What does a textbook say about it?
Just comfort her?
But I want to know
What he did,
What he made with his life.

“I don’t know why I said that,”
she cuts in.
“Just wanted you to know”
We end the conversation.

…

Later,
I walk into 124.
He’s pale, lifeless.
You can tell he’s gone
“It’s expected they say,
It’s hospice.”

The supervisor
calls it at 1:38PM.
I put a glove on to close his eyes to sleep,
Use a stethoscope to hear what nothing sounds like
On the other side,
Remove the catheter,
Open his mouth to check for dentures to make note of.

He’s so cold.
Gums like ice.
No dentures,
Teeth straight, white, well kept,
No jagged edges or chips,
All his own.
“He was a distinguished man,”
I mutter to myself.

I wish I could have asked
The voice on the phone about him.
A stretcher takes William away
Under a red velvet blanket.

 

About Will Collins

Will Collins is currently a nurse in Toms River, NJ, living with his three dogs who are a handful.  He graduated Richard Stockton University of NJ before becoming a nurse with a major in Spanish language and culture and writing.  When not at work, he can be found writing, skateboarding, and hiking or bird watching. His poetry is currently not published, so he says this is an exclusive treat!

Corporate Yin Yang by Will Collins

I breathe like the spring time.

Inhale like a lion,
Exhale like a lamb.

I talk big of my dreams,
I act small from my cubicle.

So juxtaposed,

Like taking Ambien
With a gulp of espresso.

 

About Will Collins

Will Collins is currently a nurse in Toms River, NJ, living with his three dogs who are a handful.  He graduated Richard Stockton University of NJ before becoming a nurse with a major in Spanish language and culture and writing.  When not at work, he can be found writing, skateboarding, and hiking or bird watching. His poetry is currently not published, so he says this is an exclusive treat!

She’s Dying by Will Collins

She always lies in the dark
Skin that once fit her like a beautiful mask
And protected her like armour
Is giving way to bruises,
And holes gape from her skin
Down to the bone

Her eyes closed but
She was still in there.
Her chest moved with each breath
Shallow but quick
As she began to slip away.

Morphine in the corner pocket
Of her mouth helps ease her into
Vast nothingness or somethingness
Whichever,
Depending what you
think.

I told my manager I couldn’t make the call
Because I might cry.
I went into her room and opened the curtains for once
But of all days it was gray.

I don’t know what crossed my mind–
Even the most radiant sun’s rays
Cant ressurect a dying flower.

I was hoping,
Just thought for once,
The answer didn’t have to be in a pill
Which came from a textbook–
Standard operating procedure–
‘This is How You Help Them Die.’

 

 

About Will Collins

Will Collins is currently a nurse in Toms River, NJ, living with his three dogs who are a handful.  He graduated Richard Stockton University of NJ before becoming a nurse with a major in Spanish language and culture and writing.  When not at work, he can be found writing, skateboarding, and hiking or bird watching. His poetry is currently not published, so he says this is an exclusive treat!

Water by Will Collins

As a nurse
I learned that amongst the bone scaffolding
And water balloon organ mechanics
We are mostly water

I have been so fluid in my life.
A chameleon drowning who’s
His own worst enemy

Writer turned estimator turned mailman,
Turned nurse turned cubicle dweller,
Riding a bank account too weak for
More student loans
And a resume too broad to
Fit the next mold
While searching for greener pastures

I’ve always been the stream
That flows effortlessly through
A keyhole to grass greener
Only to be the same shade of
Jaded when I step foot on
The dew soaked lawn of another
Early morning prospect

I am made of water,
But even so,
there may never be a day’s work
I find that doesn’t feel like work
And quenches the thirst of this
Dripping mess body

 

 

About Will Collins

Will Collins is currently a nurse in Toms River, NJ, living with his three dogs who are a handful.  He graduated Richard Stockton University of NJ before becoming a nurse with a major in Spanish language and culture and writing.  When not at work, he can be found writing, skateboarding, and hiking or bird watching. His poetry is currently not published, so he says this is an exclusive treat!