#hospitsl
They had unbandaged
her leg stumps.
Her blind eyes
saw only darkness.
She could hear their voices
and feel their fingers
and air on bare flesh.
She lay on her back
trying to make sense
of their words.
One spoke of healing
and another of measuring
for artificial limbs.
One voice
sounded Irish.
A young nurse
she assumed.
She replied to questions
they asked.
She lay there
quite exposed.
She wondered
if her maid
had suffered
in the bombing.
Clive whom she loved
and made love to
had died at Dunkirk
the year before.
One voice became distant
then disappeared.
The nurse(she assumed)
was attending the stumps.
Grace stared into
the blackness and heard
on the ward other
voices on the air.
She seemed
embraced
by the cold arms
of despair.
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC