I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

7 April 2010

In the Waiting Room

In the waiting room
the woman two seats from me
is regaling her neighbour
with her husband’s stroke
in detail.

We others
sit mute, unmoving,
our eyes-front gazes locked
in waiting-room magazines,
trying not to hear.

Small mundane horrors
are imparted with laughter
and loudly so we all
get, willy nilly,
the masked pain.

Left her job.
Has too little time.
He can’t use his left arm,
and during conversations
he’ll just walk away.

She’s the one sitting
in this waiting room in need
of medical treatment, yet
brings herself present
obliquely.


NaPoWriMo Day 7

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