Datsy

What wondrous, mysterious place
hospital too modest a word

Ponder the density of emotion
as a topographical map
of côtes and cols, peaks and false peaks,
overlooking every hill and valley of the world

Within these walls and long corridors,
amid home décor magazines and Styrofoam coffee,
the complete cycle of existence unfolds.

A baby and parent cry new life
an old man cries his last.

The perfect circle
child turns to man,
man turns to child.

First broken bone, tonsils removed,
grandma’s death, my first child’s birth
and my second.

Linoleum corridors echo the sounds
of conjectures and refutations—
our wins and losses.

A black hole in some unfortunate universe,
none escapes.

Rich and poor, ruler and peasant,
we all arrive as equals,
numbers on a wrist.

Immutable right
to sinners and saints
both are asked simply to live.

All that remains:
spartan beds,
Styrofoam coffee cups,
and shiny linoleum hall floors
outlasting all