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More poems by Mark WunderlichMark Wunderlich | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Mark WunderlichBooks by Mark Wunderlich

The Bruise Of This

Mark Wunderlich

The night I woke to find the sheets wet from you,
like a man cast up on the beach,
I hurried you off to the shower to cool you down,

dressed you, the garments strict and awkward in my hands,
and got you into a taxi to the hospital,
the driver eyeing us from his rearview mirror--

The blue tone of the paging bell,
the green smocks, metal beds,
plastic chairs linked

in a childhood diagram of infection,
and when they wheeled you by
there was a needle in your arm,

the bruise of this
already showing itself,
and rather than watch gloved doctors handle you

in their startling white coats and loose ties,
I took a seat outside and waited,
time yawning, thick and static--

and made clear to me in the bright light of speculation
was time's obstacle in the body,
and those things I could do that might cushion it.

Added: 25 Mar 2002 | Last Read: 20 Jan 2018 7:44 AM | Viewed: 5829 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/4270/ | Viewed on 20 January 2018.
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