A poem

I am, of course, early for my appointment

despite decades of experience

I think perhaps today some luck will come my way

my hope is my weakness

Yet in distant lands

children

with severed hands

wave bleeding stumps

to the sky

We are beyond why..

My privilege is like a suit I was born with

and we gripe about waiting

If I may offer some feedback to the staff please consider a public tv station

Ok, running late

of course I am happy to wait

I wonder what that bleeding means?

My blood

their blood

all the same

it leaks

if we don’t care

or some drone

hovers overhead

I am what you expect, no more or less

poetry is no passport

to lasting fame or financial success

The Dr asks “how are you today?”

Stupidly I say, okay

I wait with the best of them I give credit to my compliant soul

born of a timid strand of lesser DNA

Have a great day.

Chris

2025