Saturday, 30 June 2012

Bus notes 8

Each time the bus goes
past the City Hospital
     I find myself naked
     in the UV light
     but for the one sock on
     and a visor over the face.
The good laughter
and wrong comic turns
of the nurses hoped me to
a new kind of humanness
     before I walked, shining,
     on to work’s baby doses
     of quotidian disgrace.


  1. "but for the one sock on
    and the visor over the face."

    "'s baby doses
    of quotidian disgrace" :

    "good laughter
    and wrong comic turns"

    I rest my case.

  2. Sorry: "a visor", not "the visor".

  3. The good and the wrong, the discovered nakedness and the exposure that can't be hid, the dread and the laughter, the humanness and the disgrace -- these are the acknowledgments, in a poem that bravely recognises the complexity of a harsh present. In its full spectrum of helpless vulnerability and hopeful possibility. The bus ride in this case becomes a roller coaster ride, letting us off at reality. Hard, but a fair let-off, in all honesty.