February 26

by C

comments 4

Wednesday the tired
wrung-out day

the lightest
of rains falling

and sometime
last night

the kid ended
up coding

went back
to the Unit

and this morning
my head aches

my dispo
brittle in so

many ways
of course

there’s no
such thing as silence

on this floor
it is a living place

it groans
with life

and at its leaving
rattles

like the IV pole
of a patient

making his rounds
all morning long

none of us
could tell you

where he is
going

OPTIONAL POETRY