While Green Halls Call

The cry of the weary and forgotten

The green halls are calling My brother’s Muffled shuffle now joins the rank Of the ash faced Hundreds who Pass through these walls,

Parked at the entrance, Vacant stares illuminate For one moment I’m someone they may have known.

The lights dim in their eyes, And they settle into everyday Displayed like appetizers For death’s daily banquet.

Shuffled like cards, A new deck is dealt Once a week they change the sheets, While the White Ghosts hurry by Their $5.15 an hour Make them too busy To shoulder the weary.

In the lunchroom, They cackle like magpies Over weekends and boyfriends While the restless continue to ricochet I hear the echo and the empty answers as they Clamor for comfort Talk to the walls to no one Who often answer.

Sunken faces stare At nothing Who’s there?

Is it you or them talking to me, Talking to myself Minutes drip by so slowly Without a phone Without tv.

I need some help in here.

I need some help In here.

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