In the Catholic Hospital
Andrew Scott
Loud speakers whisper love songs
and sad songs. A woman’s voice
interrupts to say, Let us pray.
She reads a prayer, urges them
to thank God and think of Him.
Forgiveness, she says. Healing.
The woman in room 138
tilts her head on crisp pillows,
asks for breath and hands to hold.
Downstairs boys with X-rays
see their insides for the very first time
and the red cafeteria lights
of vending machines trace
the contours of a young man’s fingers
as his hands cup his face.
Everyone hears the speaker
and glances up, forgets
for one brief moment,
why they are here
in the Catholic hospital.
Andrew Scott lives and writes in