I Know Why The Caged Bear Howls...

Well - whatever the technical problem with my internet connection was yesterday ( the one that had me on the phone for about an hour to a very nice man called Raj on the Wanadoo helpline in India ) has resolved itself. I was convinced that it was something to do with them and not me but of course, Raj in his full systematic corporate politeness wasn't having it...

Anyway - I can't go out for a walk yet as it's snowing, so I've finally got round to editing some of the poems that I did in hospital.

The overriding image I had in my head ( and hence the title of most of these) was to do with caged bears. If you go into the wards at the hospital (and I'm sure they're all pretty similar) you see small bays of six beds, each with the possibility of enclosure with curtains. And by ( or in ) each bed is a patient - in my case they were all men. ( It'd be interesting to see if the image is as strong in a women's ward.) As people get better, they get out of bed and into their chair and then the next step is to walk round the bed. After that, you venture further afield - but you always return to your bedspace. Your territory. Your cage.

So - with apologies to Maya Angelou:

Caged Bears In The Afternoon

John smiles radiantly from his corner

Conducting imaginary music to unstiffen his jab-raddled arm.

Frank giggles away at The Journal.

Four days ago he took on ten staff –

At 79 and ten stone.

Morphine.

Young Jamie from Brandon left at lunchtime with his dad

His twenty-four hours here a haze of blag, cheek and confidence.

His life I suppose.

He played for Sunderland before his bike accident.

Brian’s just come in

He’ll eventually have his op in the small hours of the next morning

I just want to tell him to do one last ordinary thing

Like having a shit

Smugly, confidently and with complete panache.

I sleep through other people’s visitors

And my dinner

Have explosive dreams and submerged sleeps

Get better.

Caged Bears in The Night

Rage and sweat

Burn and tear

Cough and belch

Sob and weep

Scrabble and grin

Like rats

Pulling at their blood-soaked tails.

The Caged Bear Frowns

He knows it’s unreasonable

But still

He looks straight at you

Scratching his leg

With one long sharp claw

Shy Bairns Get Nowt

Billy and Bobby explode

Through the lathe and plasterwork

Of our quiet afternoon

In clouds of complaint:

The ward is too hot

The nurses are ignoring them

The telly doesn’t work

They are in pain

Turn the light off!

I quietly seethe

Filling with someone else’s blood.

Tulips

Petal by petal they’ve fallen

Sectioned like blood oranges

A fresh green stamen is exposed

Dark pollen spreads

Outside

A squirrel dances in the air.