Notes on the State of Adult Social Care - 1. The Standard High Backed Chair; Adjustable - Without Wings
She sits in the Standard High Backed Chair; Adjustable - Without Wings.
She's an old bird now, and there'll be no more flying
the clipping of the years has seen to that
she'll never be no sweetheart in a ball gown
the backs of her hands are marbled blue and purple
the muscles of her bladder flaccid
smells of hospital kitchens
is barely human-looking
that human and woman means
that glossed, bronzed, skinny little thing
you are surrounded by on screens
at all times.
We have forgotten the sharp joy of her birth
the tears of her mother. Her wail and bawl
as the cord was snipped clean.
We have forgotten, because her human-ness
is smeared with Sudocrem and pureed carrots
the image of her human-ness is ugly and clumsy
the plastic beakers, piss-soaked sheets
milky eyes, trolleys, hoists, beeping alarms
the false teeth -
she has hidden and can't remember where.