He is Taken In for his Appointment
with all my worldly goods do I endow
this locker, just what I have on me now:
wallet, glasses, phone, my favourite shirt –
a little gallant gesture couldn’t hurt,
I thought – and all the stuff in which I hide
the naked thing that’s shivering inside.
Reduced to underpants, socks and shoes,
and flimsy linen gown, rather loose,
I venture forth to find the kindly nurse
who brisks about my blood pressure and pulse,
attaching wires, while I lie supine,
as though she’s imitating Frankenstein
or mapping Leonardo’s perfect man.
(I think I will be better, if I can.)

David Callin

If you have any thoughts about this poem, David Callin   would be pleased to hear them