Va Worker Night Shift Poem by nathan martin

in the hospitals white
walled memory
many stories are placed
drawn and sewn in

stories of healing and pain,
tears of joy and sorrow.

whispers in the ear
with a little medicine
under the tongue.

but all are blanketed
in the silence of the walls
white continence
or is it black

no one can see in another
persons heart

when all the beaded rosaries
have been counted
and all the saints candles
lie in wax on the floor
there is nothing left
but for the janitor to
mop up.


dedicated to walt whitman.