musings from a hospital bed
the woman in the bed opposite weeps with pain
her murmurings through the night sussurate
soft moanings: could be a child all cried out
a mother trying to soothe her baby
or something baser (!)
perhaps she's praying
or talking in her sleep
the woman in the pink dressing gown
clears her throat repeatedly
it sounds like doves cooing
under the eaves
the woman with the hair bun
seems translucent somehow,
with her large brown eyes
and barely-there eyebrows,
her collarbone protruding,
her well-bred voice
wisping and lisping
* * *
machines beep in the night
a kink in the line, two-tone warning
faces in masks, carrying torches
a nod of the head
(yes, I'm still awake)
new patient in the bed opposite
snoring softly: good for her
all the curtains drawn
this is as private as it gets