Missing Turquoise

Striped bedsheets blue, white.

Medical gowns wrapping old people

in checks, blue, dark blue, white –

crosswords without words,

The enigma of disease,

the puzzle of death, without solution,

playing itself out.

Nurses move their small skeletons

in navy blue scrub suits,

balancing disposable crowns of soft blue caps.

The bed cupboard is a muted, matted, metal blue,

muffled by the blue laughter of

the bright neck-pillow.

The crying blue bed pan

hides under the bed.

Mud blue veins, without a body

drink saline dreams.

Nothing is more surreal than reality.

The zen water jug, a cool, calm blue,

watches all, saying nothing.

Blood is red, yet.

Suddenly, I miss the turquoise ocean

in your eyes.