Visit to the Ward

—Casey FitzSimons

He narrowed his eyes and he made a sound
when the doctor turned. Come here, the doctor
said to me. I was young, but held my ground;

naïve, but the doctor was naïver still.
My father glared at me again. I’m proud
of her, he said, and this time, I will …

but his voice drifted off and up. He’s tired,
the doctor said, then asked, Where is your mother?
I drove myself, I lied. It’s she who’s tired.

The sun shined cold on the sunroom floor.
I wasn’t old enough to sign him out.
Fuck you, my father said, heading back to the ward.

My mother waited in the idling Ford.

One thought on “Visit to the Ward

  1. Powerful poem–unflinchingly brutal, spare, and honest. "The sun shined cold on the sunroom floor." That about says it all for me.

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