iv.

The ward sister
grew tired
of us
and our forest of teacups.

I grew tired
of her.

Outside the hospital
I took off
my shoes and socks,
and stood barefoot
on the wet grass
looking up at the sky.

Minutes rolled past.
Each one a slow heartbeat,
a breath.

A line of
patients in wheelchairs,
chain smoking
in dressing gowns,
watched me
worship,
and I waved.

No one waved back.