A pervasive hum, invasive lights,
white gown swooping hairy legs,
a skinny ghost whose nest-like-head
buzzes with static and stinks of cigarettes;
a woman afraid to be sent home
convinced that death is imminent,
and from a key locked room a wail
ascends the air to crest the brutal
surface of sedation.

While I drink tea
with an amiable addict, his pain denied
the lush Lethe of morphine, vigorous
doctors on the upright side rush to quell
the Pandora of unleashed cries,
and my own stricken daughter
behind her scarred face
hides, appearing oddly
unperturbed by it all.

© Michele Seminara

*First published in Social Alternatives, 2014

© Poem and Dish