Life Saver
Every dawn they came,
their whites, blinding.
One pulled the sheet,
while two held him up,
arms flailing, suspended.
Then he fell back
and screamed. This scream
pained the ear. I could hear
sedan skidding over sidewalk, breaking
both arms, legs, fracturing
the eight-year-old pelvis.
Daily, his family prayed.
Once, his uncle offered me,
his roommate, a green Life Saver,
a symbol, he said, of his life
and what was saved.
I remember the sour-lime taste
which, after some time,
turned sweet.