Friday, 19 February 2016


"Obs" is an abbreviation of observation. On certain hospital wards some patients may have 1:1 staffing due to concern that the patient may self-harm. 
I think that is all the introduction needed for this poem:

First Day on Obs.

She would have if she could.
The other nods, exhales grey clouds.
They sit in the garden area, inside a hexagonal, perspex cabin.
Their air is thick, and heavy and obscures them.

She had planned on not being here today.
Things hadn't turned out as she wanted,
pulled back to this ward, to this world.
She is still here, the other nods.

The ember reaches the once white filter.
A last suck on nothing.
She discards it in the concrete, plant pot ashtray.
She will sleep through the television afternoon.
This poem has been through a number of revisions and has been totally restructured. In the process it has become shorter and I hope more atmospheric. Thanks to both the Secret Poets and Juncture 25 for their constructive feedback. If we are to grow as writers we need to share our work with others and listen to what is said.
Here's Les Illes by Maria Del Mar Bonet. Enjoy.

No comments:

Post a Comment