Fishheads continued By Michelle Dee

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The first line of a poem I wrote years before plays itself in my mind over and over again. "To do it, would be so easy..." Oh really, easy is it? No it is not, not easy at all, it takes bottle a hell of a lot of a bottle. The bottle, I've knocked it over, thank god it was empty. It rolls slowly away grinding against the gritty concrete surface. I watch it roll then realise it's gone, rolled right over the edge. There's a shattering sound as it smashes somewhere in the darkness below. Trembling I lean over the edge my legs dangling dangerously.

I lean farther out staring hard into the blackness below trying to see where it smashed. I'm slipping; my God I'm slipping. My fingernails grit the top of the concrete barrier then they grip nothing. I gasp for breath but none comes. I'm falling. I'm really falling. Down, down and down. My body somersaults legs over head, head over heels. As if some giant child had tossed a doll through the air. Over and over and still I'm falling. No sound, no air to breathe, no scream to make...White flash, white flash.

A mist; a mist clearing; a mangled mess on a railway line. Blue flashing lights. I'm high above watching a scene unfold. Two police officers are standing over the body; one is talking into a radio. I can her the crackly voice as someone replies. The other officer takes of his reflective jacket and places it gently over the blood-soaked form lying lengthways over the track; as still as the morning air. To the left of it, there are shards of glass glinting in the early dawn light. My bottle, that's where it went, I watch as the sun gradually illuminates the scene clearing the mist. It climbs over the treetops that line either side of the track.

I hear a siren growing louder and louder, I spy an ambulance driving over the rough ground, bumping towards the security fence screening of the track from the public. Two figures jump out and fling open the back doors of the vehicle. They drag out a long stretcher and hurry to the uniformed men now waving urgently to them. The two paramedics pause a while at the fence then pull the wire to one side revealing a gap, plenty wide enough for them to clamber through. I puzzle over this action for a while then consider the possibility that the fence was cut sometime before I got there. The medics and the officers carefully lift the broken body on to the stretcher still with the police coat draped over it. They fasten straps across it, holding the body in place. Then, picking their way carefully over the gravel they return once more to the ambulance carrying the stretcher between them. My eyes wander back to the track. The officer now without his jacket pauses beside my broken bottle; I can imagine what he is thinking. Then, turning around he stares up at the bridge. He calls to his colleague and they engage in some conversation that ends when one points his finger upwards, right at me. An engine roars to life, the ambulance begins to move off. A dire dread feeling washes through me. A sickening desperate sensation consumes me. Wait, wait, wait for me, I scream.

I imagine I hear voices, where am I this time? Try to see, try to see. Come on idiot child, you know where you are. But why, why? What was so goddamn awful, what drove me to such a thing? Look, believe me you don't need to remember that, not now, you really don't. White flash...

"How many times is that now?" "At least four, according to her chart she has been defibbed and resuscitated once a week since she was admitted to the I.C.U." "Okay, keep giving her the Morphine up the dosage once more and steady the heart rate. What's her B.P."? "One thirty-five over eighty, pulse thirty-nine b.p.m. and climbing" "Good looks like she's fighting, keep a watch on her and let me know if anything changes. I'll be back to check up on her after my rounds on the ward." "Yes Doctor, shall I tell her mum she can come back in now?" "No reason why not she's out of immediate danger for now."

My mum? Where? I can't see her. Oh, another spasm, get away get away, stupid body. I can't focus. Mum, are you there? I can hear you; I can hear your voice I really can. Mum I moved my head; I moved my head, I think. Did you see mum, did you see? There's a shiny wall over there with lots of lights blinking on and off. Blue lights and red and green, tubes and lots of wires too. There are phones ringing and footsteps; all kinds of noises. Mum, I'm here, I'm here. I can see you. Oh lord, God dear God she's awake, she's awake Nurse, nurse! Mum, you're crying...

© Michelle Dee 2005

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