by David Spicer

Nobody cares I ate scrambled eggs today.
Says the nurse: I care. Facebook, here you come.

Facebook doesn’t care but the nurse posts it.
She works three shifts with her doctor husband.

The doctor and nurse work until they collapse.
Fifty patients with fevers hotter than lies.

The couple lies down with their fevered patients.
Three shifts later they return, orange juice fresh.

My orange juice fresh, they work three more shifts.
Then they drop dead by my sad respirator.

But my sad respirator doesn’t drop dead.
A nurse wheels it out when my fever lowers.

This nurse is less friendly than a high fever,
although she cares I ate scrambled eggs today.

David Spicer has published poems in Santa Clara Review,  Moria, Oyster River Pages, The American Poetry Review, Ploughshares, and elsewhere. Nominated for a Best of the Net three times and a Pushcart twice, he is author of six chapbooks, the latest being Tribe of Two (Seven CirclePress). His second full-length collection, Waiting for the Needle Rain, is now available from Hekate Publishing. Bill Mazza is a visual artist using chance, duration, and accumulation to reinterpret landscape as a relationship of people to their mediated environments, through painting, performance, and community-building collaborations.

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