Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry

Usually the surgeons stopped talking,
adopted a rarefied silence if I was in the ward office
beginning to speak then seeing the hired help
upstairs downstairs –
the Catering Manager,
the food dude one of the theatre nurses called me.
Often called to the station for diets, special requirements etc et
and often … “ Mrs Johnston  in 103,” then tiered silence.
But this one didn’t, new perhaps
or secure that nothing was personal or confidential –
a threesome -surgeon, patient and nurse …
“ So,
we need to keep you in a couple of extra days,”
cut to charge nurse …. “ have you got space – yes
back to patient, “ will your insurer be okay?
Yes.
And what about work?
No probs mate just give me one of those notes you guys write
Okay Saville Row tailored, perfectly voweled
“ two extra nights
notification to the insurer
and …… I’ll do one of those notes us guys write.”
 

Snort –
the best I ever heard
no one could replicate it – get close
it began as a boxing glove thump
ended with switchblade flick :
disdain,
futility
scorn,
disbelief,
non-verbal –
adjective, adverb, noun –
multitasking. It was a weapon
feared by all in the workplace
but the best was self-directed
at
a younger, more militant self
short haired
androgynously clothed on a demonstration March
“ wearing buttons protesting everything – including myself,”
a male bystander called out
“ are you a man or a woman ?
why, do you want to fuck, or do you want to fight?”

He was well known
a republican and lawyer.
Turned author
when prohibited from practicing law –
prohibited
for refusing to pledge allegiance to the Queen.

Steady
not prolific
but thoughtful and critically acclaimed works.
And
always prefaced by reviewers
as an ideology free left wing intellectual,
as if not possible to be both.

On Public Radio
the interviewer asks about his just completed book.
Frequent coughing interrupts the replies
“ would you like some water,” she asked –
“ you don’t sound well.
Actually I’m dying,” he replied.
Three weeks later he did.