Peggy Labes

(New York, New York, USA)

The Nursing Home - Poem by Peggy Labes

Silent,
Breathing the fetid air,
Skin the color of ivory
Left too long in the drawer,
Their life-leached bodies
Line the hall
As they wait
For the dining-room doors
To open.
Are you looking for someone?
For me, I said.
Not yet. You are not here.


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Read poems about / on: home, life



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 2, 2003



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