0600

A smell
of hospital mince
hung in the air.

The car parks were empty,

Early sun rose
hazy and half-hearted,
as if the day was already
stretched toward evening
and what was to be done
was already done.

Morning doors
wheezed open
then closed.

The night had been a long one.

People limped home,
jury-rigged and bandaged,
anguish under wraps.

© BH, 2023

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Don’t know where this one came from either. I had a note about it date on my last birthday. I’d been at the local hospital, as it happens, for a routine appointment. The smell, as always, even at 8:45 was distinctive. I imagined how it was even earlier…

That must have been it.