Print PageMorning, V.A. Hospital: June 25, 2008
James S. Wilk, M.D.
JKandJWilk@aol.com
Startled by the thump thump thump
of rap music, I turned to see it pounding
the reflection of the sun up and down
in the tinted windows of a red Mustang,
which eased between a spavined
Town Car and a faded Eldorado
into a parking space for disabled veterans.
My head throbbed in anger to the beat.
Tremulous in their Government
Issue robes, a few wizened warriors
watched a pregnant blonde
wriggle toward the trunk.
I watched her labor a bit,
her eyes squinted and face crimped,
as she unfolded a wheelchair
from the tiny trunk and pushed
it to the cropped-haired phantom within.
A foot emerged and then a bent hand
as the one-armed, one-legged youth slipped
out and slumped between its armrests.
She wheeled him clattering
to the hospital's entrance and I dropped
my coffee cup, its contents cold
as a car bomb in Ashur Square is hot.
About the Author
James S. Wilk is a physician in Denver, Colorado, specializing in internal medicine and medical disorders complicating pregnancy. His poetry has appeared in Measure, The Sow's Ear Poetry Review, Ars Medica, The Pharos and others. His chapbook, Shoulders, Fibs, and Lies is available from Pudding House Press or directly from the author.
Published: March 17, 2009