Bed Number 2

I’m calling for mom
In my sleep,

Banging on walls
Needing answers,

Always waking when
Watching those spiders

Weave webs on my mind
Without rest.

These terrors
Cause fluttering beats

Till I’m screaming for help
Every second,

Soon hooked up
To scoreboards with heart rates

While tugging at leads
Which can pull

On chest hairs
Still dirtied from sweat

After exercise
Turns into suicide

Becoming real scenes
From these nightmares

Soon feeling that pulse
Out of whack.

I’m carted to
Bed Number 2,

Hearing EMS leave
Making comments

About pains
Whose source remains mental,

Letting arrogance
Speak for itself.

Why am I back
At this place,

Having doctors
Belittle my symptoms

And blame only nerves
Despite seeing

The signs which deserve
Being scared?

How many nights
Must my wife

Watch strangers insult
Her sick husband,

Including his name
Along patients

Whose ills
Are poetically missed?

Such plights go ignored
Turning meaning

Over feelings
We symbolically suffer,

Serving purposes
Only God reveals worthy

Facing hospital walls
Far too much.

She kisses me
Knowing I’m gone –

Alone in my head
Writing stories

I thought one day
Would be novels,

But now they’re just stays

  • J. Pigno

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