there is a particular odour
that attaches itself to feet
when the shoes are removed
at the end of a thirteen-hour day
that begins
with the tepid sloshing waters
of showers and baths
for forty-five incontinents
the leather of the shoes
captures moisture
and holds it
in a tight-fitting soup
that surrounds feet and winter hose
as the day goes on
with cleaning and washing floors
in the clammy warmth
of a steam-heated ward
my mother wants only
to take her shoes off
to rest swollen
and painful feet
I want
to leave the room
~
-
Author:
Frank Prem (
Offline) - Published: March 13th, 2018 00:29
- Comment from author about the poem: Franks Psychiatry Part 1 - Early Years.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Offline)
Comments2
The constant work has its downside.
I've said before that it was more or less the norm, but that didn't make it better or easier. It was pretty awful work, sometimes.
Frank,
The conditions one must endure to make a living. Incredible! That odor rarely parts...no matter how hard we try! Another indelible entry my friend!
~Laura~
I can remember it still, Laura. And children are, of course, such graceless creatures.
We can be!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.