Locked Memory Unit at Cefn Coed

[FranktheFrank]

The industrial type dryer rotates
and rumbles as it dries a mix of clothes.
The colours run, a fuzz on the weave
the clothes shrink. The Inmates dress
in clothes to tight, appear
like Tweedle-dee and Tweedledum

Residents wait in the spacious lounge
on expansive leather sofas
An acre of loungers. Attendants
hover in the background

I sit next to Dad. 'You look
like my son,' he says, he takes
holds my hand. Just before
I make ready to leave, his eyes
well-up as I hug goodbye

A resident greets me, displaying
his grammar-school roots
'Comment vas-tu ma chère amie'
He's happy enough with a smile

An elderly man complains bitterly
to his in-laws, 'What right? What right?'
An older man approaches me, ‘Hello,
Dear boy! how nice of you to come see me’

Nice indeed, if only I knew who he was
I've never met him before
The complaining man continues
‘To keep me here?’ shouting now

struggling to contain his hysteria
His daughter explains, 'He’s been difficult.
Very difficult.' An elderly man
approaches with a shuffle. I am wary.

‘Excuse me,’ he says diffidently
‘I’ve left my vehicle down the road
I don’t suppose there’s any chance
of a lift? Could you?’

We near the exit, a raucous voice rises
over the background chatter
‘And, where do you think you‘re going?’
Abrasive, enabled with authority

My new friend and I shrink. He stutters
a reply but is cut off, mid-stream
‘You’re not going anywhere’ I edge
my escape, glad she's not addressing me

I drive away from the sanitorium
Its lights fading in my mirror. Dusk
is drawing in. A murder of crows caw
from the grey Victorian-Gothic buildings

Dad did not rage at the dying of the light
His concern was the incessant drip
of codpiece and the seep
of spittle on his lip.

[BobBradshaw]

Gorgeous! Love the humor….

An older man approaches me, ‘Hello,
Dear boy! how nice of you to come see me.’

How nice indeed, if only I knew him.
I felt we had never met before.

[FranktheFrank]

It was darkly humorous day that visit, Bob.
I foretaste of something to come fear.
I forgot to mention that when they were dressed,
like Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum, they all looked
the same in clothes which had shrunk,
the colours had run and faded, the texture had
fluffed with the heat never mind the quality
instructions.

The raucous nurse had shaken me, the power in the voice,
the man complaining. What power these specialists have
to incarcerate just for a little dribble at the codpiece
and the mouth.

[BobBradshaw]

Interesting… sounds like you have material for another poem….you handled this piece deftly.

[Billy]

Yes, very good, and I'm oh so familiar with this situation as I'm a nurse who visits locked memory units quite often.