I still remember the low thread count sheets, the constant movement
from out in the hall, the nurses name, the doctor’s face , the ambulance ride
that brought me to that place. And the room where I was alone
With that flickering green light.
Three days in that cube, with that so-called food and the lonely nights
spent wondering what would come next. The morning rounds came brisk and cold
The doctors spoke only to one another. I was alone
With that flickering green light.
Later in the day came the streams of friends, the family members
Eager to demonstrate their love. For a moment I might not notice it
but as time marched forward and visitors marched away. I was alone
With that flickering green light
That light, in the corner of my room. It danced and it moved,
It played games with my eyes and chased the shadows
across the floor to the empty chair. But I was never alone
For I had a flickering green light.
3 comments:
Through your writing I feel like I could experience parts of what you went through.
I like your decision to present the experience in a flickering "Green Light" ... great title!
Interesting way of showing relationship between an independant struggle with illness and loved ones on the side.
I really liked this one. My favorite part is the description of the thread count in the sheets. That made me laugh. Good job.
I like the personification of the green light in your poem. Normally one would associate a "green light" with going somewhere or starting something, but you contrast that with staying still and going nowhere. It starts out as a nuisance but it takes on a life of its own by the end of your poem. Could it be a touch of stir-crazy psychosis?
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