Notes from the Ward

We drink medicine like cats in the sink. Fluids split their seams
and tumble tileward, a rising tide of salted blood. This is the place
your mother warned you about. The monster zone goes all the way
to the edge of the bed and a hundred people have died in this room
and if you don’t think they’re still here somewhere you haven’t
looked under your bed lately. That beep-beep-beep isn’t your
heart. It’s the way the dead breathe. Hear how it speeds up now?
You left your life on again: we found it this morning, idle
and dying for batteries. There’s a plug here somewhere.
Wear my hat for a while. It makes the other nurses laugh.
We used to dream about running in our sensible shoes.


Palm Reading

Image of The Caregiver, pulled at random from the Archetypes Storytelling Card deck. There isn’t actually a Caregiver tarot (that I can find) so I used the Page of Pentacles (which is caregiving) as inspiration. That dude has some mother issues.  
Words written to the sad sound of summer construction.
Time Taken 10 minutes, while also making breakfast.
Brain full of headache.

This entry was published on June 4, 2012 at 10:53 am and is filed under Poems, Seattle, Self-Portraits. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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