Hospital Poem

203461_1043105893_7925013_n_biggerby Joshua Converse05 Jul 2013

Mostly we wait
and to aid waiting we tap our feet or
play cards and talk quietly- but not about-
well, nevermind.

And we harbor hope of leaving
and leaving together
arm in arm- this hope is not for speaking but becomes a gesture;
a held hand,
a book read aloud,
a joke no one can quite bring themselves to laugh at.

There are routines instead of sunrises
and machines suck at the night’s corners
with lights a bit too bright,
there is a bed but no rest
except, finally for-
well, nevermind.