Surgery

The clock on the wall marks the slow pace

The TV blares banalities along with the weather

People wait in antsy anticipation

For their loved ones to pull through.

Hours pass like softened butter

Sliding slowly across the day

I purchase another coffee

As I stay tuned to the eerie glow

Of fluorescent lights in the room

They sit, read, or watch the screen

As each second is ticked away

Eventually, they go back to see

How the patient fared under anesthesia

And how to take care of the wounds

And how to give them their pain pills

The beloved is carted away unhurriedly

To another room or to an awaiting car

To recuperate for a few days

Or a month, or a lifetime

 

© 2017 Valerie Hathaway

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