But it's not cancer,
I didn't have to take her ovaries,
Just cleaned up the endometriosis--
You see, the body regards endometriosis
As an invader, so tries to
Get rid of the accumulation
And that causes pain and inflammation...
He murmurs, Thanks, Doc,
Shakes the doctor's hand,
Suddenly sees the green pajamas,
Looks down at his black jeans,
Black shirt, black coat, the glittering
Metal brads, the black boots...
Taking inventory of himself...who he is.
He starts to tag along after the green pajamas.
But stops himself. They won't let ya.
Don't go there.
She's still asleep.
There's nothing to do
But wait till she wakes up--
The nurse'll come get him--just keep
Pacing the floor, watching
The traffic through the glass of the atrium,
Eyeing the others in the waiting room,
Encased in pools of silence like jail cells.
Nobody to talk to.
nobody to listen to.
He doesn't belong here,
It's time to move on.
It's an alien hostile world
Without her. She isn't here.
She isn't even his.
He can't talk to her,
Can't shake her shoulder
And say Wake up, Lorene,
Wake up, the baby's crying,
Can't send his hand
Snaking under the covers
Till he touches her flesh
Smooth, warm, ready.
So this is what limbo means.
You're nowhere, you're nobody
You have nothing to do
And no one to do it with.
He drops into a chair,
Stares through, past the atrium
doing that nothing
With that no one.
Till the nurse comes, smiling,
Some kind of St. Peter at the gate.
She's awake now. Come with me.
(c)Anne Meek
published in Skipping Stones 2004
Mindworm Publishing, Chesapeake, VA
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