“Wounded Healer”
He sits, slung slightly low
on the couch
where he sat two days ago,
pleading with Harry
not to quit, dialysis.
Harry’d forgotten
he was coming back today.
So he waits,
while Harry runs
the lawn mower to the repair shop.
He waits, as Miss Gloria
slowly pushes herself up from her chair,
limps inside her walker
to the medicine drawer.
She had noticed
his scabbed cheek
(he had a bad habit of picking at scabs).
She limps back,
holds a white tube
and a Q-tip between her fingers,
pushes that side of her walker
with the heel of her hand.
“I’m old and slow, now, Pastor,
but I will always be a nurse.”
Dabs the swab onto his face,
gifts him the tube
(triple-threat to bacteria);
he of course receives it,
says, Thank you, Miss Gloria.
I have to be getting back
to the office,
no don’t get up,
but please tell Mr. Harry that
I’m glad he’s feeling so much better.
