Archie
If you were our pet dog and someone said
That you were brain-dead, I’d have no
hesitation
In asking the vet to put you to sleep by
lethal injection,
Would treat it as a kindness after
twelve years of life.
But you are my son, grown inside me for
nine long months,
Nurtured until an accident took you from
my side, into
This hospital bed, surrounded by
machines, breathing
Only because a ventilator is doing the
work for you.
Now the judges at the court have ruled
it’s cruel
To keep you here, want to switch off
life-support.
They don’t believe I felt you squeeze my
hand,
Think that I imagined you’re still here
with me.
We wait to see if we can appeal, keep
you here
A while longer, surely a mother knows
what’s best.
If you were a pet dog I’d have you put
to sleep,
But you’re my son, flesh of my flesh,
I won’t believe that you are dead.
Joyce Walker
Joyce is a retired administrator who has had poetry and stories published in a number of magazines. She won 1st prize in the Writers Brew story competition in 2002 and was runner up in the Erewash Writers Burst Flash fiction competition in 2013. Her most recent win was 1st prize in the Writers Forum Poetry competition, published December 2021. She loves the First World War Poets. She has work published in Aayo Magazine, Awen, Orbis and Monomyth.