"Caution: CYTO Toxic"

That's what it says On the dark brown bag Covering the "CYTO Toxic" Underneath. It hangs over me On a five wheeled metal tower. The nurse wears gloves; My vein doesn't. No street protests though, No shouting or dramatics; It's why we are here, For this toxic delivery. This Oncology Day Ward Sees a lot of CYTO Toxic, A speciality of the ward, On the menu daily And no complaints. I who smoked from age 18 to 50 Can hardly complain. I protest not. This, a different poison, A modern version of my mother's Benign "St Joseph's Aspirin for Children" On a spoon, Seventy two years ago. But like her, It shouts not, but rather, Whispers its way Into me (Drop by drop) Going after the bad guys.