A book lay open
on the table
by her bed
I looked
at the cover
blue
well worn
named Byron
a friend gave me it
Julie said
can't make head
or tails yet
the ward was quiet
blinds
were pulled up
sunlight came in
blue and white
over duller white
she in a flowery gown
pink flowers
small
on white cloth
tied at the waist
leg crossed over
the other
slippered feet
thin ankles
not read him
I said
died in Greece
she said
who?
I asked
Byron
she said
she pulled a cigarette
from an open packet
and lit up
I’ve read Shelley
I said
he drowned in Italy
I think
she inhaled
smoke rose
grey
white
lifting ceiling ward
thin fingers
held
fingers parted
slightly curved
as if sculptured
I sat
on her hospital bed
firm
blue blanket
white pillows
solid
Guy's in the slammer
she said
drug taking
and selling
I said nothing
looked at her lips
holding the cigarette
opened and closed
hair untidy
won't see him
in a while
the parents
will be glad
didn’t like him
have class of course
his parents that is
she said
I studied the cleavage
where the gown
lay open
small valley
darkness sinking
when I get out of here
she said
we must meet
in London again
I looked away
from her cleavage
outside
the sound
of hard
falling rain.
BOY AND GIRL IN HOSPITAL VISIT IN 1967.