deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Curator
I curate death for the living
in a mausoleum of hope
I am a nurse - clandestine
I am despondency with a smile
I've broken more ribs than I've fixed
like twigs snapping in your hands,
my palms crunch bones
like snow beneath your feet
the dead and I wear the same expression
under a white shroud
our emotions lie buried
beneath the surface
hidden behind layers of minerals
and foundation
I embalm my mind for self preservation
vignettes plaster the rooms
clinging to the walls
proxy living through the past
hanging on the edge until
the sound of paper slips to the floor
cutting the air
the same sound as a gasp of breath
being severed from the body
hollowed out faces stare with acrimony
from a distance
my health is an affront to their existence
why isn't it you, their eyes ask
why isn't it me, I ask
92 year old Norma looks up at me
mouth agape like a bass fish
breathing like a guppy
through cracked, dry lips
it sounds like reverse hiccups
dead fish eyes stare at the ceiling
I turn her back and forth
her eyes roll with her body
until she is linen and bones
I toss her skin with the sheets into the hamper
I wonder if I know anymore what it means
first do no harm
Norma and I go to the cafeteria
together and abandoned
we stop at the morgue first
and I wonder how people would react
if they knew
the only thing separating their food
from Norma
was a thin layer of metal
between two fridges
I leave her behind
not feeling hungry after all
food is for the living
in a mausoleum of hope
I am a nurse - clandestine
I am despondency with a smile
I've broken more ribs than I've fixed
like twigs snapping in your hands,
my palms crunch bones
like snow beneath your feet
the dead and I wear the same expression
under a white shroud
our emotions lie buried
beneath the surface
hidden behind layers of minerals
and foundation
I embalm my mind for self preservation
vignettes plaster the rooms
clinging to the walls
proxy living through the past
hanging on the edge until
the sound of paper slips to the floor
cutting the air
the same sound as a gasp of breath
being severed from the body
hollowed out faces stare with acrimony
from a distance
my health is an affront to their existence
why isn't it you, their eyes ask
why isn't it me, I ask
92 year old Norma looks up at me
mouth agape like a bass fish
breathing like a guppy
through cracked, dry lips
it sounds like reverse hiccups
dead fish eyes stare at the ceiling
I turn her back and forth
her eyes roll with her body
until she is linen and bones
I toss her skin with the sheets into the hamper
I wonder if I know anymore what it means
first do no harm
Norma and I go to the cafeteria
together and abandoned
we stop at the morgue first
and I wonder how people would react
if they knew
the only thing separating their food
from Norma
was a thin layer of metal
between two fridges
I leave her behind
not feeling hungry after all
food is for the living
Published 14th Jan 2024
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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14th Jan 2024 7:40am
14th Jan 2024 8:47am
14th Jan 2024 12:04pm
Excellent piece of writing. Not too many laughs in it though?
It's such a strange environment to be working in. One minute Norma's there, next minute she's gone. And this can happen with people 10 times easily in a week. Or even on a really bad day.
And nurses/carers are meant to just carry on like nothing has happened? How many suffer PTSD without knowing it? Humour helps you get by. But it's a hard gig.
Great piece. Unfortunately we will all be Norma or Norman one day.
Dan
It's such a strange environment to be working in. One minute Norma's there, next minute she's gone. And this can happen with people 10 times easily in a week. Or even on a really bad day.
And nurses/carers are meant to just carry on like nothing has happened? How many suffer PTSD without knowing it? Humour helps you get by. But it's a hard gig.
Great piece. Unfortunately we will all be Norma or Norman one day.
Dan
14th Jan 2024 12:16pm
We definitely will. On more than one occasion I have been chilled to the thought that I will eventually also end up in that cold fridge...
Fortunately, I have a pretty good sense of humor along with being fairly resilient and compassionate, so I have not had the same burn out/fatigue that others have. If anything it is actually my prior history of PTSD before becoming a nurse that has actually helped me cope. When you are already so used to adrenaline in your body, it is way easier to be cool as a cucumber when it is needed.
Fortunately, I have a pretty good sense of humor along with being fairly resilient and compassionate, so I have not had the same burn out/fatigue that others have. If anything it is actually my prior history of PTSD before becoming a nurse that has actually helped me cope. When you are already so used to adrenaline in your body, it is way easier to be cool as a cucumber when it is needed.
14th Jan 2024 1:18pm
Death will find us all.
You wrote a very cool descriptive piece.
Thanks for a look into your world.
You wrote a very cool descriptive piece.
Thanks for a look into your world.
