The Beautician's Day Off

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Wed, 10 Dec 2014
  • 969 reads
6 comments
 
Ms. Smith dozes; mouth wide open.   
She snores – her French-pleat in disarray.
Her nail polish, chipped – in need of repair...
except, it’s the beautician’s day off, today.
 
Monday afternoon she last opened her bowels;
Blood Group, ‘A’... positive; She’s fifty years old
a year into the change – a flimsy curtain –
between her and her dignity.
 
How do I tell her, as likely as not, 
she won’t finish the novel she’s reading
and how do I put it to Tom, a diabetic,
I couldn’t save his leg...apart from
above the knee?
 
You know Tom, round any street corner...
him and his dog. What to say, when he asks 
who’ll feed it when he’s gone?
 
Ask myself what the hell good are a string 
of letters after my name? What to say to the man 
looks back at me each morning when I shave, except, 
Not down to me; it’s the beautician's day off, 
today?
Certificate 15
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Unclassified

Comments

Submitted by jolono on

Stunning Tina.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Appreciated, jolono, more than.

Tina

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Such sad cameos, you bring humanity to statistics.  If only the truth could be prettied up into something more palatable.

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

If only, Philip, if only.

My thanks to you for sharing your thoughts.

Tina

 

Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on

You draw the people in the hospital so clearly, Tina. If the system saw them as people first and patients second they would fare far better.

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

You never said a truer word, there, elsie.  Your thoughts always more than appreciated.  Thank yousmiley

Tina