32 is an ugly number

my day started with a death

ain't that so much fun

i blessed the body

they wanted to debate theology

whether or not the soul had gone

pretty soon i was gone

a black cassock

how appropriate

the printer wouldn't print

did half my sermon from my phone

leapt down off the altar

wanted to get a little closer

tell my tales of growing up in Chicago

they taped me

miked me

and paired me with a priest

labeled as forgetful

i thought that was regretful

when the cassock comes off

it's time to document

after all

only one tenth of your day is spent

and none of tomorrow

this man went around hassling for money

wound up pounding on my doors

he wouldnt go away

followed me down the hallway

ducked into the gift shop

oh no buddy

not today

i picked up a phone and

he was gone

in the afternoon

a man much too young

he dies on Father's day

they had to carry his daughter away

then his fiancee

the waiting room fills up

one second it's quiet

the next it's shrieks

every thing i try to comfort

met with very little response

it's not supposed to work this way

no, it's not supposed to

work this way

two pagers and

they're both firing

right now i fear the night

not that i can't handle it

but this job is such an unknown

one minute they're broadcasting you on TV

the next your body starts beeping

don't i even get a bow

a curtain call

before i fall

i look outside

the bricks look so pretty

oh how i wish

to roam it

talk up the girls

and say something witty

but that won't happen for 32 hours

i've got papers to present

and my sermon on tape

hopefully i'll leave the interns mouths agape

shut up and sip your Fanta grape

in the morning

surely they will ask

did you see the pre-surgicals

oh yes sir

i most surely did

in between the sorting

and the holding up of my head

Wednesday will be a command performance

my peers will be watching me

instead of the ladies of the rosary

sleep is so elusive

and the codes and traumas are so intrusive

all i have left is my dream

nine to five and no midnight screams

and i wish the administration knew how

it felt this way

not knowing the day

watching your dreams float away

wearing a suit

all along the day

i will save you

but only your soul

the rest will work on your body you know

lord i wish i didnt have to go

wrap these hours in a bow

i really would have liked to

crack that guy in the head

but then my career would be dead

until then i am

until then i am

 

Reviews

[Becky C Strukamp]

An excellent write. I do so enjoy your work. You deliver such heart warming, passionate poems. This ones seems to take us through a busy day, one that wont co operate and that tests ones patience, I feel the urgency here for an escape just to breathe without interuptions, time to reflect oneself but the day wont let you breathe, handling one incident after another and the day seems more hours than possible. You are able to help us see just what is happening, why or why not and see the emotions...You deliver to the reader a powerhouse of things to ponder, reflect or admire and the feel goods too..this one makes wish for a rescue. Did you get a rescue? Excellent work!!

[Daytonight]

Sounds like a really rough day Thomas. For that I am so very sorry. But it did make a wonderful write. I know what it is to work 11-7 and hold the hand of a dying patient, or worse yet, have an elderly man beg you to let him die in peace and there is nothing you can do but say I'm sorry. And the whole time I pictured my own sweet father dying of cancer at age 42, too young. Thanks for sharing. Keep penning.