From the Sunny Hospital Room
I watch TV while I die and the radio’s on.
Tell the doctor about the sandwich you ate in the garden, Eve.
And I do, and I don’t for a moment consider
how romantically we are made; how two bring their halve to make one.
I don’t have the kind of thoughts that stride in like God.
But I think of the TV, the radio, the shallow score they made into the bone
before it split like glass and I think of you Dad,
while there are no tidal waves, no lips to kiss after thunder but the normal like
the Dad, the tea, the sea, the dying and lifting me out of the sandbox
into the big car, and waiting for you
on the stretch of tarmac to Burger King and how much it hurts you to see me like this.
So I say, I will miss the T.V, the radio, the pitta bread, I will miss it.
EVE ESFANDIARI-DENNEY is a British/Iranian poet living in London. She recently completed a BA in English and Creative writing at Goldsmiths University and is currently working towards an upcoming pamphlet.