2300-0700

the ED tech travels as if on wheels
yanking me from room to room

family and patients make note of us coming and going
and return to their texting and crosswords
for it's all waiting here

in room 2 a man is gone
I should say he is dying
but that feels so active
and this cancer-ridden body is all passivity
the wife, the son, wait
faces dry and resigned
how long have they been hefting this wait around?
his eyes, distended
point unseeing at the wall
barrel chest shudders and heaves
with the force of the ventilator
I'm sure his last conscious breath has passed
but this is not a vigil
and no one focuses on the man
our exit goes unnoticed

across the pod
a middle-aged woman with a broken shoulder
weeps when we touch her
hunching around the assault and embarrassment
tears track down bare breasts
she blames herself for standing in a hallway
and being knocked down by a crowd of teenage boys
I feel like I'm watching her add this
to her list of reasons why she is
stupid, broken, not enough
the splint we apply seems flimsy
plaster and a sling never healed a heart in pain
and her mother complains
about the expense

the night wanes
so morning must be coming to replace it
while I'm helping to empty the bladder
of a catatonic woman from the psych ward
I smell her, unshowered, as the nurse inserts a catheter
her flesh trembles as we press upon her bladder
I hold the leg aside, like you would for a woman birthing
I put my hand on her head and tell her "te estamos ayudando"

and of course there is no emotion showing
but when I pronounce her name
I give it the proper Spanish lilt
and her eyes turn toward me
a syllable slips through her lips
a shard of beauty amidst all that is broken