pinkish chairs stamped “triage”
(first stop ten minutes)
are the colour of the feverish baby
when his mother bends to lift him
her shirt shifts to reveal
the tattoo on her lower back
and the man with the walking stick
struggles up to move
along the chair row
i decide to follow suit
yet not quite conform
leaving a seat between us
the man in the ski jacket
looks at me more than once
the nurse takes my temperature
asks obligatory questions
ties my hair to my head
with a surgical mask
it reminds me
how i hate sleeping
with covers over my face
the warmth of my own breath
against my skin
selecting a grey chair
across from ski jacket guy
i observe out loud
“i am the only one
wearing a dorky mask”
he seizes opportunity
“what do you have?”
i meet his eyes
“a cough”
i realize too late
i am seated
directly facing the clock
the old woman in the corner
is wrapped in a thin plastic gown
her gloved hands rest in her lap
elbows on the arms of the wheelchair
her glasses are thick black frames
round like her face circled by silver hair
she looks like a fish
the father with the little girl
not sick enough to be still
is growing weary
ski jacket says they’ve been here
two hours longer
than his own two-hour lead on me
i turn and ask her if
the mask looks silly she nods
she tells me she is “tree”
and is going to be “evil” for halloween
her father translates “eyore”
i occupy her with chatter and
outdated wallet portraits of my girls
while dad collects himself
she stands on her head
her foot connects with my face
i admire the shape
of the young security guard
her long brown hair
the ring of an office phone
alarms a coral-smocked sentinel
hair curled just so
in her best bazaar bargain jewelry
she shrieks
for nonexistent cell phone use to cease
it doesn’t make a difference
when i shift my weight now
i have been baptized by my own breath
for three hours and fear i might suffocate
without the chance
to approach the powers that be
with multiple ideas for redecoration
in the waiting room
really i want a cigarette
and a comfortable chair
becky comes in
her hair has grown
she shaved it to raise money
three months before the city shook
at the death of her six-year-old niece
she is with a woman in obvious distress
they close the door to the triage room
my breath is too hot
and i can’t shake the chills
can't stop thinking of lauren
the waiting room chair monkey
is still
since daddy discovered the television
i marvel a moment
at velma and daphne’s short skirts
i will live
if only i can breathe new air
the nurse is not pleased
when i tell her
ski jacket asks if i can write a story
about his business
i give him my card
his “hope you feel better sweetie”
makes me second guess that decision
as the sun hits my face
Author notes
err sorry girls it's a bit long...
(and imagine it all pretty font and rich text enabled as if i were a gold member... it would look lovely, really)
Nov. 5 - edits
A contest entry
- Contemplations: The Waiting Room by Cat.
1300 points, ended November 9, 2007, 16 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Great topic and interpretation... so many thoughts. I think this poem would be perfect if it were "ass antlers" instead of tatoo; or maybe "tramp-stamp" though that might be too crude (on these points I disagree with my expressed opinion). I too always marveled at Velma and Daphnae's short skirts. "i realize ... the clock" is a perfect stanza as is the "shift my weight". Less fond of "she looks like a fish" as a line... would prefer
"circled by silver scales
of fishy hair"
but that might be my voice, not yours.
You end it very well when I was left wondering how you would end it, so that it really conveys the experience. Your details are excellent. You've got the eye and the tongue to tell.
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You know that fish line bugged me to no end, but I couldn't find an alternative and really wanted the image in there. I think the issue was I can't quite pinpoint what it was that made her look like a fish, it was a combination of things that would be too lengthy to work in. I may take another look at that, show don't tell... thanks for the reminder, and the comment.
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i'm so glad this won gold..
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this is great... I can see why it won... well deserved... the reader gets to spend a time in your head and witness the scene through your eyes, all so vivid and clear... love the end... love the repetition of the need fro breath and the way that need seems to take over and consume all of the thoughts expressed...
wonderful!
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-that mother with the tattoo, I love you for that.
-that stanza about the covers=more love
you've done an amazing job.
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thank you
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Yep
The connection between journalist Jan and poet Jan works well here. Personally, I thought the format suited the, err, slideshowness of it. It read very well aloud for me, a compliment, as I seldom read narrative style freeverse aloud. This was fun, and would work well at a reading.
I also wanted the tragic side expanded, but that may just be my proclivity for the dark turn. Excellent ending, I enjoyed this a bunch. Don't let anyone keep you from writing longer pieces. Boxes ain't for you.
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I love this... I am so ....right there with you... lol
and this..
i realize too late
i am seated
directly facing the clock
that IS the waiting room....to a T..
and ..about the length...
anything but too long..
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I'm so glad you entered this... your camera eye captures complete moments and stories, hence why you're such a good writer and journalist... bloody marvelous
well done hun...
many thanks for entering and good luck too
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I think I've lived most of my professional life . . . at least 8 years . . . in a waiting room, an emergency department . . . but I was medical. The best place to get a disease is in an emergency room . . . a nosocomial infection as they say in the business.
Yeah, this is quite the long story poem. Lots of things I can personally relate to. Luckily I was not on the receiving end as a patient, but as a care giver. Almost every year I'd get sick though, as many sick people we meet and greet, some of them have something for us.
Nice poem.
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i love the full blown descriptives- the person by person accounting- the snap shot peek from your eyes, with your face buried in a mask.. i too hate to sleep with the covers over my face- reminds me of plastic clown mask i wore for too many halloweens as a kid..
the little girl is enchanting- ski jacket is disarming and you have to kick the cigarettes..
or you may as well get used to days like that.. xoxo
wonderful, wonderful poetry- well worth the wait.
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This definitely sounds like emerg...amazing what inspiration is found there...waiting, waiting and more waiting...having been there recently with my husband's appendicitis. Actually it's quite fitting that it's long, since a long time is usually spent waiting Enjoyed!
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I like long poems that I like
high fever and
cover over my face
only my own
breath seems the only thing that warms me
sometimes it is so hot I fear my skin will burn
and that's when I stop breathing
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My goodness. I have to say that I would never have thought you would write a poem of this kind of length. I checked the author twice to see if it was really one of yours. lol
It's not bad. It has your wording and images you're so good at using. Short but not.
Though, on the critical side, I can offer these thoughts:
Yes. It is a little long. I think one of the reasons that I noticed that was that you switched forcus many times in this and it was abrupt. You might want to smooth some of the wording in the transitions or use enjambment to help?
Also, though I know this isn't so popular here, you might wish to consider paragraph form. I think it would help the flow of reader and allow you to see your spacing more realistically.
The final note I could offer would be to place more emphansis on the death of the neice. I think that impacted me most and it could be sly connected to your illness and the little girl in the room, adding a greater emotional depth to trap your readers with.
But those are just thoughts. Ignore them if you don't think they suit for this. I know you know what you're doing.
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Oh, and you know I did wonder about line lengths some but I hadn't actually considered paragraphs. I need to wrap my head around trying out that concept. I have one other long piece posted here which was the longest I think I had ever written and probably still is when you consider how short the lines are in this one. http://allpoetry.com/poem/2778874
I think I'm done now. -
I love you.
I'm quite certain I was not quite ready to post this and without the dealine it would have gone through a more stringent edit before being posted. That said I probably will not have time to complete that process before judging but who knows. And ultimately it's really nothing to do with the competition just the prompt happened to prompt as it were.
Your criticisms are the same as the areas I had identified as needing work - ie: the abrupt transitions and... most importantly you read that emotion about the death (I get chills even as I type this with it being brought to mind again) I only saw that possible connection with the little girl when I was actually arranging and writing all my notes and little sections I had written down. Then it all came together for me in a way but I think I need to build on that earlier and maybe your suggestion of that additional connection to illness would work well.
thank you
thank you
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lol You're really are a sweet natured soul. I tend to forget there's still a few of you left out there.
I'm glad you find it helpful. I'm not around much, so I try to be when I'm here.
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this makes you my second favorite. wonderfully told...
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wonderfully told Jan, you handle longer narratives so well...
al
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thanks Al
this was the edited version too
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lol, author notes ..ahem
to the poem:
jan, SO glad you wrote this, with or without the italics you wanted. I took a little trip into your mind, and you know, i name them too, the people i watch.
there is medusa (her ass spills over her waist and she tries too hard to look pretty - becomes what looks to be a cheap hooker. there is also the dragon lady - a celebrity in my world, i blush if she holds the door for me. there are a few i've named and that i study every time i take a smoke break.)
so yeah, your view of these people is fascinating and makes the waiting room so much better than any not-quite-real reality television show.
lol...the foot to the face made me smile
and the desire to go smoke and have a comfy seat, well yeah, that too.
so glad you wrote this..sorry for rambling
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i enjoy rambling...
there was more and more characters that i wanted to include...
thanks suzi
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It may have been long, but definitely worth the read. I love the details and the jumping around between images.. so real and honest, especially the part about the old woman looking like a fish.
Reminds me of the time my little sister (who was probably bet 1 & 2 at the time) walked up to my mom and me and belched out for the whole (very full) waiting room to hear "that lady over there.. her eyes are sooo big!" the poor woman. At least you didn't say it out loud (grown ups know better than that), but thanks for writing it.
Best wishes in the contest.
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sometimes we adults can remember not to blurt out those things
thank you
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i plop myself down at the farthest point, looking at them looking at me, and i know it's a carnival 'guess your weight' kind of who's the sickest and who has the best insurance, but we all have an eye on the clock, getting farther removed from our own importance, like sheep at harvest, thinking me, me, me.
and we hover like dwarves around the nurse...her up there where air is cleaner...and down here where the waiting has teeth, we mill and fake reading old magazines we couldn't care less about, two clicks short of walking out, but needing to be told we're not going to die today.
and no one mentions that smell. the one that makes your every orifice clamp shut, and you KNOW they're going to take your pulse and blood pressure just seconds after you're about to blow and say: hmmm, your blood pressure's up.
and then you're on medication you don't need, counting calories, measuring salt substitutes, and wondering how the fuck you got to this moment when all you had was a sore elbow.
nope. don't know what it's like. never been there.
i'm as healthy as Jack Sparrow in the Curse of the Black Pearl.
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arrghh...
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