We walk out and are
wheeled back in again on trollies.
On proper beds, we already feel sorry
for the new girls on the ward
awaiting their turn
because we know what's coming.
But morphed off our heads, we soon
forget the initial pain of suffering -
like having given birth - can only vaguely
recall how bloody awful it was...
Later that day, or the next, or the next,
we walk out of the short-stay place, shocked
tit-less - we women on a reduction line,
praying it's over with.