CPR Years

Three hundred miles away

from home,

and stuck between two names.

All I know

for sure is first aid

and how to deliver CPR.

Never having done it

on a warm human before,

I must trust the haunting stories

of my participants

who have been unlucky

enough to perform it on living

and sometimes unliving beings.

The sternum may crack.

Just keep doing those compressions.

And I will answer questions

about if you have

to kiss someone to save

their lives.

Driving to another training,

never home

because it would take months

to learn what that actually was,

I sing quietly, a ghostly whispering,

“Another One Bites the Dust”

or “Staying Alive”,

depending on the mood.

Falling asleep beneath the scratchy

motel sheets, I will think

of the day’s shared memory.

I was shot by a sniper.

They had to leave the bullet in my head.

Those vets would always

laugh as if it was a walk

in the park

to survive something like that.

Then, we would talk

about burns

and how to treat them.

They’re prone to infection,

and the damaged skin

may peel off

if you wrap it with gauze.

Off the clock

but stranded in mid-nowhere,

I stalk the aisles of

drug stores to restock supplies—

Gloves, bandages,

hand sanitizer,

and masks, always masks.

I would try on several,

wasting time, but also still

unsure about this affair

that kept me wandering aimlessly.

Remember, check-call-care.

Remember, airway, breathing, circulation.

Remember, 30 compressions,

2 breaths if you’re brave

enough to kiss a stranger

or remembered your breathing barrier.

Remember, don’t panic.

You’re saving someone’s life.