The silver birches undressing
by the railway tracks
are flinging their bandages
to the wind. Rain might
gnaw the wounds, leave them
pock-marked, glorious.
Is that enough to make you
look up, acknowledge the lesions
humming under silk and neatly
pressed cotton?
__________________________________________________________________
The Patients
by Christian Ward
Bio: Christian Ward is a UK-based writer who has recently appeared in the Rappahannock Review, South Florida Poetry Journal, The Dewdrop, Dodging the Rain, Wild Greens, Mad Swirl, DipityLiterary Magazine, Impspired, and Streetcake Magazine.
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