Medical
I am in that basement ward,
the disused one,
the one they park you in
on the way to the morgue.
The usual clutter of broken wheelchairs,
torn screens,
long defunct electrical equipment.
I sense that this is where you are left
until they figure out what to do with you.
In the morning I go to work.
I want to be somewhere else,
when they come to get me.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2024
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