Poem for the day by Vic Pickup
Online - 10 May 2020
She puts guilty grown-ups at ease, smiling with stained teeth.
Estonian, Bulgarian, who knows? Either way she’s far from home.
Busy in her rubber shoes, squeaking down the polished hall,
caring for a troop of stooping elders like she were their own,
and they hers.
She upholds the dignity of those who served in both world wars:
the tradesmen, prostitutes and politicians of yesteryear,
supplying the beakers, incontinence pads,
leverage and pills to make living possible –
if hard to swallow.
She’ll take to her grave the whispered cubicle confessions,
the shouting, ranting, scratching – the fear of those once
fearless. This is not the true nature of her patients, she knows,
tucked up in bed at night, barely able to afford
to turn the heating on.
Vic Pickup 20.04.20:
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