In R.A.S.T.T.A. B 47, 
A surge pod
In a forgotten space
Somewhere between
The Acute Medical Constellation
And Planet Endoscopy,
I sit and wait patiently.

Forbidding yellow stripes
And angry red notices
Decorate this corridor.
A verdant forest scene
Is plastered over the window;
A futile attempt
To obscure the sterility.

Ernest medics whisk along
In blue
And green
And purple
Ignoring us gargoyles
Resigned with desperation
In our eyes.

Two young women
Bursting with youth
Chat comfortably together.
A friendship forged by
These circumstances.
For the rest of us:
We grit and bear.

Constant echoing voices.
Occasionally a child cries out
Some fellow,
His mobile on full blast,
Watches football videos
At 1.42 am.
Oblivious to us all.

We sit here in Limbo
The waiting space
Between Accident and
Acknowledgement.

Sunlight shining through
A hurried medic arrives
Gives me 5 minutes.
You are free to go.