The cupboard of last suppers is small and slim
Gun metal grey it exerts its pressure
On durable-frail clinical-white tiles
Cartons of soup-thick nutrients
(peach straws affixed, pierce here, cut along the line)
Along with mashed vegetables, scoops cracked by onion skin weathering
Hot cold erosion, rusted iron, calcium, rare minerals and spoons
All other items in room possess pulse
Electronic or otherwise, persistently, irritatingly faint
Irregular, unlike bed branched paths worn dirt-thin by nurse shoes
Flowers removed, all observing the great petal exodus ritual
These sounds and nothing;
the clock tick clop of visitor's heels
the privacy plastic rattling slide (herald
of approaching atrocities)
the chant speak whispers, shuddering metal wheels,
the vibrant, reeling cacophony of this
smear of scarlet grease
on a quiet paper cheek
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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haunting
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Great write, I liked the use of sibilance and alliteration
Glad you liked my poem
All the best
Pozo
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The contrasts and ironies can't escape me here. I know this journey in my own way, and I know it well. Many souls of words escape my heart this night in terms of prayers. If I can write a poem, I will.
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I feel like I know whats hapenning with you by reading this poem...thinking of you and Paul at this time.
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Terminal or life-threatening events vividly depicted through sensory images and details, lighting up a context of suffering as the poem sings and reveals, drawing the reader into a movement and ambiance of crisis.
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