To the scrubs crew, lovingly
The cheer goes up at 7 PM
hands clapped red in frustration
of paralysis
at inability to lift one iota – to help
And I see across the street
on the roof of the homeless shelter
that even the lost adore you
They dance their merry dance and kick the imaginary around
while we stand at our windows and flame
You who are the fated, reluctant gnostics
of our time, eyes wide to an immediacy
numbers of bodies and their last breaths
Tell them that I love them
Wanted to show them more
Say that I am sorry
They can have my car
Words before intubation
How they evaporated like water pouring from a cup
one after another ticking the seconds of the day
And you taking the hit each time they leave
feeling it heave in your entirety
failure after failure — a condensation
of many lives, their folds into these past few weeks
Your own bodies so near disaster
Because keeping them alive is your religion
and ours is howling on the rooftops
at our windows if only once a day
Forget gratitude and the many tritely thanking words
and phrases that pox the internet
There are no words worth anything at all from us to you
only this noise and bodily incantation