another hospital, another waiting room

sardine-stuffed with weary families

red-eyed and brimmed with soured coffee

numb to the bells and whistles

the shabby symphony of life, death, and the in-between

immune to the stale air and its grim bouquet of disinfectant

how often have I shared this road

with the nerve-worn nameless

the miserable few?

how much life have I spent

held fast in the trappings of death?

fear lives here, slithering like the

DEVIL

through our garden minds

whispering lies of god-like men

(saviors with saline,

mighty men of morphine)

bringing false hope

with their delaying tactics

but if the devil is in the details

it is hard to imagine him here

where everything blurs into mind-numbing sameness

and each hour

stretches out like cold morning molasses

this is the kiln where my anger is stoked

doused with the accelerant

of the incompetent and careless

compassion deficient

and when it burns white hot I know no friend

not God

(who bears my every flame)

nor myself

(the victim of my deepest scorn)

this place—this damned place—is filled with whys

and never enough answers…

never enough rest or calm

save for the final sort