Feature > Poetry
Everything Is Exactly The Same
at the hospital & in the Tuesday veneer
of waiting, even minor coffee spills shake up
the mostly vacant halls while the same custodian
searches the white brick for the difference
between too late & senility, between lights out
& the lights being out on a summer-sized screen.
This isn't a place for anyone to be: machines
beep the modal music of our broken systems—
the same octave in every room. Even in the lobby
with the welcome desk festooned with get-well
cards & balloons. Even in the crumb-collecting
waiting area full of addiction & hope. & above,
halogen lights keep quivering the same benedictions,
ill-timed & in double time for no one in particular.