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It’s 8:00 pm.

I’m staring at the IV tubing. We forgot to stop the fluids.

I’m standing in the resuscitation room alongside the naked, broken body of a teenage male. Unable to break my gaze on that dripping IV line, thinking, We’re going to flood him.

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Kenneth P. Gurney

The helmet-less skateboarder
with his head split open
never checked his rearview
for the one-in-a-million chance
gaining on him and all of his 
experience through
six-hundred-thousand plus
ollies, railslides, and mctwists
makes no real difference
as the EMT scribbles the words

organ donor 

on some official looking form
before the ambulance zooms off
toward the hospital.

About the poet:

Kenneth P. Gurney lives in Albuquerque, NM. His poetry appears mostly on

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