Unnumbered Ward

And accustomed ungentle hands of two blue-uniformed attendants wrap the patient in suffering’s white bed gown sewn with bright invisible emblems of virtues, or pinned with them, as with fraternity pins, or mosaic pins, meaning travel. Has he always only just arrived? Really suffering, within and without his head burn hot wires of pain: “I cannot bear this”: and does, and does the time and place outwardly expound what is within? To be well, to wear new clothes, to decimate his wage for a necktie, a scarf or gloves, love “your magic spell” scabbed his fevered lips, lay no cold cloths, though to be him bent on him eyes of those called to selflessness, lonely for more selfish days.