Wednesday, July 20, 2016

"Hospital Waiting Area" by John Reinhart, Frequent Contributor

Hospital Waiting Area
John Reinhart

suited in blue, at work;
parents walk by, neck
muscles taut, moving too quickly
and lost; a child
in a wheelchair without
hair, smiling shyly
at a Rube Goldberg
machine’s dutiful repetitions

no food before procedures,
in line at the cafeteria, elevator
carries anxiety up a floor,
follow the signs, parking
garage, sign here, back
on schedule

“I like the part where the ball
bounces into the basket –
it lands there every time”

balloons, schedules, locked
doors, floating through the labyrinth,
walls build one brick atop
a stone reminder – bluebells
blossoming another day
according to plan

Poet's Notes:  When we arrived at Children's Hospital, six-year-old Mattheus remarked that it reminded him of Denver International Airport. That was just the parking garage. We were both overwhelmed by the size and bustle of the main entrance - glass elevator, Rube Goldberg machine, coffee shop, and hundreds of people, everyone who helps make such an institution operate along with the myriad patients and families. There's a little bit of Black Friday shopping mall or snapshot of a futuristic society confined indoors. Distraction over comfort.

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