Waiting Poem by Steven Federle

Waiting
sitting in silence
finding things to do
on this normal, quiet evening.

rustling papers
and tapping keyboard,
with one eye on the phone
waiting for disaster
to ring through my complacency.

I can almost see
the sterile walls, the contained chaos
as hurried doctors and nurses
bring relief to the battle-weary
binding the hundred wounds
of collision and anger,
cancer and a failing heart.

I can almost, but not quite, hear
The IV pumps, heart monitors,
crash-carts clattering down
shining halls, carrying the artillery
we aim at the enemy.

But right now,
right here
all is quiet;

the cat mews patiently
for her evening meal
as I watch for the phone
to light up
and give me the news
that will shatter
this quiet evening.