Despite the countless little drafts of blood
or the research fellow’s vulturelike expression
as she pressed the ultrasonic hand piece hard

into your bladder; despite the frustration
of waiting for consultants to arrive,
letters that never reached their destination;

though Cathedrals command a boundless love
with opulent altars and huge commissions—
it is this hotchpotch hospital that proves

the true goodness of the human condition.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Mar 15, 2012 @ 01:08:06

    The last stanza and couplet of this poem should be printed out large and pasted to Andrew Landsley’s office wall.

    This is what poetry does so well…It captures the very essence of things and in this poem you have done that brilliantly.


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