Still Dry

Still Dry

It is still dry but bitter

Outside this dreich February afternoon

The revolving, alternating jaws of the door

Have like three human bubbles

Three smoking patients in wheelchairs;

All have one part of a leg missing

One has a hat with baubles drooping by each ear

Around them on the ground, on the grass

Many small brown sentries

A dead army of cigarette ends

Who-when the drier weather comes

Can swirl in and endanger well-prepared hair

Of any nurses or civilians

The new hospital cost millions to build

It is costing millions still.

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