Remember your spinal surgery? Same procedure
Larry Bird had, same hospital too. They brought
a cot for me into your room and we watched
the Stanley Cup final until
you started to hallucinate.
The night nurse hailed the on-call shrink,
whose queries you answered cagily.
When he left, you said, in a stage whisper,
You know he works for The Castle?
Really? They all work for The Castle.
The Bruins scored twice and the Canucks
looked stunned. I brought you home,
stoned on Percocet, and life went on until
it didn’t. Since you’ve been dead
another Red Sox season has come and
gone, Trump has been president
for too long now, and I’ve put a flat screen
in the living room, a concept
you dismissed as déclassé.
I sprawl like a junkie, numb with disbelief.
Hallucinations are the new normal here.
We all work for The Castle.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 21, Issue 3.
See all items about Robert Hahn