an actual assignment

"A Ward For Outstanding Bereavement"

Everyone is walking across where the red carpet used to be,
Now replaced with cold, connected, white tiles.
Those evening gowns and tuxedos they used to don
Stripped down to hospital gowns and laminated bracelets.
Hushed voices on the elevators eagerly awaiting the top floor
Where the celebrities of their personal lives lie in movable beds.
As the elevator doors slide open, separate scenes are already in motion—
The camera and lighting crews consist of nursing staff and telemetry
Rushing about, cast in dramatic monologues and open dialogues,
Consulting the stars of the show with IVs in place and the supporting actors
With long white coats, scripts and pens, and stethoscopes in hand.
"Lights, camera, action!" from some unknown director in the distance
Becomes muffled and lost in translation to x-rays, labs, and small cups of pills.
Instantly everything appears on cue, in perfect timing, with no editing required
To a soundtrack of beeps, clicks, rustling papers, and rapid footsteps

The commotion begins to fade out as someone silently and swiftly
Approaches the podium to announce a ward for outstanding bereavement.
A deafening stillness falls over the crowd, and for once it seems that
Every cast and crew is praying not to be the recipients this time,
Mouthing "not so soon" and "not tonight."
Sleep-deprived and overwhelmed, they review the résumés of these celebrities
That tell them of inspirations, motivations, relevant pasts
Current states, family histories, and social circles over and over again.
And then they review the many votes that were cast—
Those papers with words and numbers and ranges and levels
Of what is appropriate and what is abnormal.
All night they search for the answers to why their leading gentleman or lady
Was chosen for such an esteemed distinction from the other stars of the show.
There is no applause, and there are no speeches or encores—
Only the comfort of knowing that they did everything they could
To keep this moving film of life from ending prematurely.

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Currently Listening:  Billie Holiday -- "I Must Have That Man"

Corresponding lyricism:  "He's hot as Hades / A lady's not safe in his arms when she's kissed / But I'm afraid that he's cooled off / And maybe I'm ruled off his list / I'll never be missed."