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I Saw Her



Mr. DiNunzio, I saw her.
On that morning last week
when our flood of
white coats lapped against
the rails of your bed and
found your usual banter
joking complaining flirting
replaced by tales of
yelling in the night
a red-haired nurse
wild eyes green scrubs sour face
who would not give you
your pain meds
we thought you had turned
the corner, thought
delirium dementia oh no.
There's no red-haired nurse
on this floor.
We patted your hand,
pored through your chart
tweaked this, upped that
called a consult.
Now you've been home
a week and I confess
other patients occupy
your room, my mind.
Today I sat with one
asking questions
examining and
when in pain he pushed
the call button, in rushed
a sour-faced wild-eyed
red-haired nurse and I almost
I saw her, Mr. DiNunzio.

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