The hospital is a
wonderful place
Full of intrigue but lacking in
grace,
Lacking in grace of human
respect,
Personal dignity lies in
neglect.
Doctors stream through, all probe and
all pry
From the tip of the toe to the depth of
the eye.
They punch and they poke, they thump and
they stab
Until in defence I become an old
crab.
They look down my throat, examine my
ear,
Pull at my hair, no wonder I'm
queer.
No questions too stupid or personal
to ask;
Do I smoke cigarettes? or tipple a
flask?
They discuss each sign, notice each
frown,
Facial expression they promptly note
down.
Artfully hedging, they avoid every
issue,
My adipose fat they label
"tissue."
Interrogation is long and in
detail
From personal questions they never
quail.
Their sifting of facts is so thorough
and clear
If I do a crime, I'll never come
here.
Written in Madison University Hospital while
I was there, Sept. 1968. I had been so
depressed that I was referred to a psychiatrist.
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