IN THE HEALTH
CENTRE UNDERGROUND CARPARK
He props against
the car
waits patiently
expectantly
She lugs his
fold-up wheelchair
out of the car
Not enough
disability parks
her space is
cramped
He sits in the
wheelchair
She attempts to
adjust a footrest
bends from the
hip
to save her back
hair not quite sweeping
the ground
cheeks flushing
Caring is like
that some days
tangled
arse up
not caring
Beautiful. Love your hospital poems.
ReplyDeleteyes, this is terrific
ReplyDeleteSuch a contrast to my bushwalk this morning - a true poem succinctly capturing frustration and in the least aesthetic of all spaces in modernity - the underground car park. How lucky I am - for now.
ReplyDeleteYes. It is like that. Beautifully expressed.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much everyone. Appreciate the comments. I must get walking again John!
ReplyDeleteGood one Lizz.
ReplyDeleteI love the way these images portray the difficulties of being a carer.
ReplyDelete