Hospital Poem #1
He was a proud man,
Formerly boisterous, loud
Vulgar.
Now,
He sits slumped,
His eyes opaque.
The hard wood crook
Hangs from the shelf's edge.
His voice is tender. Now.
His "other" has died,
The woman.
He had lived through her kindness.
Her softness had been his.
Voice lowered,
Head bowed.
Where has the vulgarity gone?
It has slid away in the darkness,
And out of the darkness,
His real voice is heard.
DAVID BOGUE is a poet, writer, and hospital chaplain living in Charleston, South Carolina.
