The Poetry of Hospitals and Waiting Rooms continued (and retitled)

Posted: June 16, 2013 in Home
Tags: , , , , , ,


I am driving where the ambulance has driven

though much more quietly of course.

And, as I drive, I greet the magpies that I pass

and ask about their families.  While rooks

arrange themselves in trees like books

on shelves.

At the hospital you are OK  but

the woman in the next bed is not so lucky.

The heart care nurse , the trauma nurse

and several doctors are crowding round her  X-ray.

And  they are laughing – not maliciously –

in the way you laugh when actually you’re shocked .

Apparently it’s a really odd aneurysm.

Like nothing they have ever seen before.

                    …….  and this one is a slightly older piece:-


It looks a bit like Munchausen’s by proxy
as three weeks in a row I’ve hurried in
to catch up with the ambulances and find out
how or if they are.

Twice it was my husband. This time
I found my mother dying in a chair. Paralysed
with pain, raging with infection and futile protests
that I’ve called three nines.

As if I could have left her, dry-mouthed,
with swollen legs patterned in weeping fractals.
Calling for my brother who is 132 miles away
in Surrey, not in this house.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s