In the sitting beside
one’s ears are unselective

willed not willed
invaders of privacy

From my corner with mother
by affection not law I become

fully informed on Bed 3A…
Heart… Diabetes… Left

leg amputated just
below the knee…

Dementia the
word unmentioned

The physio comes… her
goal—‘Walking on Schedule’

Yesterday I said… but
where’s the yesterday

in Bed 3A? And again
the: Now I told you…

(Bed 3A feels that leg-
never-gone-itch

That presence I know—
Eleven I came home—

no pied cake and no
answer to ‘Mum?’

Wash-trough out back a-
wash with blood my mother

arguing with the obstinate
silence that was the mower

won only to be sucked in
by a rubber glove cut

down to four digits)
As it is day 5 you ought…

Nurse comes, stations her-
self at the baseline of
Bed 3A: Now we did tell you… and the doctor says and we’ve told you…
and we expect…

At last a friend arrives
for her—Pneumonia

Denying its right
the young resident calls

on the power
pharmaceutical

He writes and writes always
below the end of her bed
Leave the drip in now this is the seventh time we’ve had to come now we have told you over and
over you mustn’t now we’ve explained…
The Resident’s
prescribed you’re going to be much better without all this carry on now stop right now staff here are and we’ve told you and…

The orange juice
with lid on

always placed…
just out of reach