A moment ago I was on this side.
But now, I have crossed borders
Unwittingly, though not willing.
The nurse monitoring my pulse
Threw down my hand, most rude, I say,
And ran out. I thought she’d gather forces
And return. F-i-f-t-e-e-n minutes later
She walks in, chatting nineteen to the dozen
On her cell. What about me, I wonder.
More chatting. Then my ears perk. No. 47.
She says something about bed 47.
That’s me. I want to yell.
“I’ll be late. Patient no 47 has just died.
I’m waiting for the doctor
To finish the usual formalities.
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