paul
paul
I’m sorry I yelled at you before paul
but it wasn’t me
it was the third one
inside my belly
it was the other one paul
it wasn’t me
she always calls me paul
gets easily confused
among the various male nurses
moments ago
she was screaming at me
a berating sprinkled with suitably dire threats
and heartfelt curses
because I’d refused to make a third cup of coffee
a tempest
whipped up and blown out
in a few banshee breaths
then the regrets
I’m sorry paul
you know it was that other one
in the middle
she points a finger to her abdomen
I’m only six years old paul
I shouldn’t have to take
all these tablets
she tucks back an unruly mass
of stringy grey-streaked hair
fixes her gaze
somewhere beyond my left shoulder
and wanders outside
in search of another cigarette
~
-
Author:
Frank Prem (
Offline) - Published: May 12th, 2018 00:49
- Comment from author about the poem: Franks Psychiatry Pt 5 - hostel life.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Offline)
Comments2
Your patience is so admirable.
The folk in this section of the collection are the other side of the acute coin that proceeded.
These folk, by and large, are long term customers, who will not be likely to live independently in the community, even in these 'enlightened' days.
No point in losing the cool. It doesn't help, but it can make things a lot worse.
Frank,
Patience for the patient is the key! It seems to me you were equipped with a lot of it! Kudos to you!
~Laura~
Well, thank you, Laura. It's just what I do. Other circumstances, other ways of dealing with them.
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