~
Non-Norse Poetry by me ~
The Hospital
The smell of disinfectant
sterile or filthy ? - throw away
Anguished hope
thwarted cry for attention
painridden minds, surprised by mortality,
dragging their bodies through neonlit corridors.
Between them hover
white-coated smiles,
cheerfulness incarnate,
pale-skinned ant-hill dwellers.
Old people abed
every remaining day
converting food into shit.
When even this stops, the nurses come
with disinfectant.
©
2005 Michaela
Macha
License: This poem may be freely distributed, provided it remains
unchanged, including the copyright notice and this License:
This work by
Michaela Macha
(www.odins-gift.com) is licensed
under a
Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives License
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