The Visit

My jaunt through over crowded hallways past bodies grouped like gulls gathering a grey murmuring patients on overdose their creased faces like glaciers streaked by warming pink white rings that circle their eyes rabbit pinched unfocused glances not easily discarded Henry, slumped in his wheelchair his body uncoupled like a skylark cut from song thin shoulders falling to trembling limbs He greets me, barely audible words that leave soft traces that sometimes choke on their own silence What oozes forth, fragmented stories of acting on the stage till footlights dimmed Time vandalized history Roots in a cushioned land Beseeching, he asks "Roll my wheelchair to the train tracks. Leave me there." Panic closes in like shutters to darken the wood of smiling I wedge words, can brook no paths criminal A quick embrace to soothe unmoored grief to appease the unprotected My blunt exit (slowed momentum) on floor stickiness, waste-brine that coats my soles anchoring displacement Poem revised June 9, 2021