Ward 37

Keith shambles
loves custard
poured petrol over himself
and lit it
the scars mark his throat
like a turkey’s

Cath is alert
feeds herself through a tube in her neck
smokes Dunhill constantly
never sleeps since they stopped giving her the pills

Bill is tall
has cropped hair
and is camp as disco
he pushes me round the grounds in a wheel-chair
and buys me fruit pastilles

Lena is small
cheerful
says it only takes two ciders to make her tiddly
plays trivial pursuit with me
to keep my mind off things

Jo Twist © 2003