Electric Windmill Press

“Last Night in Casualty” by Jonathan Butcher

The bed is stained, rickety, a bucket
of unknown spittle lies at my feet; coffee
rings and splashes of darkened blood ensure
my eyes turn towards any given distractions.

In the bed opposite he lays, bald headed, a
tranquil smile, like an undertakers wet dream.
He groans for the bottle needed for his long
awaited piss, then thanks the nurse who hands
out scripted apologies.

And a lost voice at the end of the corridor cries
for home as her grandson raises her from the
pot in tears, and her demands slide from him
like drunks on muddy road-side ice.

And I pass them both with my head down,
and realise time has its grubby hands held
tight, with no need for its watchmen tonight.

Jonathan Butcher has been writing poetry for around four years. He has had work appear in various print and on-line magazines including Underground VoicesBlack Listed MagazineThe Shot Glass JournalFade and Unquiet Desperation. He lives in Sheffield in the north of England.

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