One of my favorite poems was published in this week's National Review, and I wanted to post it here. Jeffrey Hart is the poetry editor of the Review, and although only 26 poems are published a year, he is partial to poems in rhyme and meter. Payment is several copies of the magazine and $100.
In The Hospital; Watching People Die
At first, I expected them to go in anger,
Or fear and trembling maybe, or raving with fever.
But there is no desperate calling on God or the devil
To fetch them one more time from out of trouble,
Nor do they seem to be thinking of the Hell or Heaven
Our elders warned us of when we were children.
Their hands are quiet and are not reaching at air
For something to hold onto, someone dear.
No, in fact, they seem not at all worried,
Only disappointed, and very, very tired.
[This message has been edited by Michael Creagan (edited December 19, 2002).]
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