In Cheerless Rooms

chairs of wood and vinyl wait

in cheerless rooms

with stagnant clocks

and nurses in soft shades of blue or

green the gross tint on the wall

and tiled floors of ammonia reek

while coffee sipped in paper cups

won’t speed our purgatoric wait

rails of chrome reflect fluorescent

lights in drowsy patterns there

arms and legs in casts that itch

hoi polloi shift their feet

wheelchair girl rolls in among

unconscious on and on she moans

a nasal voice wants doctor young

while we all sit impatiently

all the magazines are old and folded

in a mouldy corner television blares

ads for arthritic cream or muscle pills

that shed quick pounds and tone your pecs

nurses come for needle pricks or x-ray pics

or instagrams–emergency is overrun

they’re understaffed and children scream

or put quiet questions to sleepy mums

who check their phones for sexty tweets

and tell the clerk 'my son's been here since'

in the back technicians scan methodically

between their breaks and flirty barbs

the air is stale but tense with fear

unnoticed panic builds and urine spills

we hold our noses, collecting

in worn loaferware but no one comes

~e