the bed moves down the corridor
to pathology and the mortician
hands tap her shoulder gently
like the lies of a politician
the next patient takes up the space
eyes wide in fear and fright
the false smile behind a surgical mask
as she says it will be alright
a cheer goes up and clapping starts
success some one else survived
meant to lift the falling spirits
of nurses whose patients died
the heat intense and sapping
dehydration and need for rest
in the short comfort break
the doubt that she did her best
nurses with cured patients smile
think their pay is adequate
those that tended patients that died
no money can compensate
back to the cold empty council flat
the milk in the fridge is off
she has run of tea and coffee
and scared of the sudden cough
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