Wednesday, March 01, 2017

Sticking Together, Glue Like

I meet , daily, at 11 am, with a group of four
Grim, unsmiling people.

one of them, the lead
wears a priest's collar

and I wonder if he's judging me
negatively because I don't attend Mass.

Shades of orange
Their auras, I suppose
wrapped around laptops

I felt like the
chairman of the board

leaning down the table
hands extended

and I didn't like it.

In their capable, authoritarian hands
Much went on behind the scenes.

In the meantime
I get to see what people do in prison
to pass time

I could see the criss-cross cut
of self-harm on one patient

and the girlfriend too young
to understand adult caretaking

At least I was not the couch-stuck posture of
the clinically depressed

I’m tentacled to a hospital staff
Their recommendations determine my fate

And I shuffle impatiently
Waiting for an answer

Bodily, restless
This is medical purgatory.

1 March 2017

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