Day 39 in Hospital
A hospital morning starts with
Rolling and rumbling of
Trolley carts.
Sometimes heavy
Sometimes light
The first thing in the morning is
A food trolley cart for
Breakfast delivery.
Like a warehouse
Bland and impersonal
As nursing care goods are.
Pink, floral pattern
Why not?
Immobile,
To keep breathing
To wake up every day
To laugh every day
And to live on.
I wait for a food tray
On the rolling cart
And I eat.
It lacks a kick,
It needs to be spiced up.
Eggs among others.
Scrambled or
Egg drop
Sloppy somehow.
It’s so simple
To boil an egg
Fuss free
A boiled egg
It is.
On the day of Chief Physician’s rounds
Doc asked me
If I enjoyed my meal.
“I would surely enjoy boiled eggs.”
The Chief Doc said, grinning,
“You are not staying at a hotel.”
What?
A boiled egg is served in a hotel
But why
Not in a hospital?
I’m confused.
“I’m not picky. It doesn’t have to be soft boiled,”
I said.
Chief Doc’s head looked spinning.
“You like eggs, don’t you.”
“….”
No, you don’t get it.
I wanted to say eggs here were tasteless…
I said to myself in a small voice.
Tomorrow may well start with
Rolling and rumbling of
A trolley cart, with
Tasteless eggs on board.
It’s all right just the same.
‘Cause I’m alive.
Poem by Maria Franki
Edited and translated by J. Ujiie
©2011
