A Doctor Works

A  doctor works on an unconscious woman,
a teenager in black VC battle dress, she
lies on a cot, jagged edged holes
in her chest bubbling bright
red.


Her eyes flutter, open and unglaze. She
sees his white face, her open shirt,
the scarlet blossoms blooming on 
her brown skin and, in a
rush of hate, spits red  
flecked sputum
at him and
dies.


He, trying manfully to restart that stuck
 heart, her carmine gesture slidding 
down his pale cheeks, his eyes
telling of his injured pride,
says, through clenched
teeth,


"Who are these fucking people?
Don't they realize
I only want to
help?"