of hospitals to song halls

after oracular channel
after the kind sleep
two unknown identities bring the woman known as mother out of hospital zones
from clinical white to sepia lounge – a clinic meant for children
the hospital lacks procedures for such a woman
or
a medical trial that’s against protocol is needed
 
her exit is carefully planned and executed
admin looking plain clothes scientists or middle aged nondescript sons
escorting special subject known as mother from
government confines with surgical rooms to dimmed corridors and hidden treatment labs
 
the next best steps are not explained to me
I lose sight of the two unknowns
I lose sight of the woman
a crowd of everyday strangers confuses the space
unfamiliar women and children sitting in brown chairs idling, planted, diversions in flesh and form
 
I’m on the phone, calling the hospital mainline, to ask about the woman and the children’s clinic
the voice on the other end doesn’t know what I believe in
the voice of the unknown identity penetrates the haze of my inquiry
‘put the phone down’
it is uncertain if i end the call or it was ended for me
I only know i nearly expose the plan
 
one then, loses sight of the entire scenario
one is now elsewhere, at an exhibition or museum or concert hall
one recognises the singer on the white stage
her hair recently shaved, her song, not of her repertoire
one greets her with a hand on her sweaty back
the black tie crowd is leaving this island hill
I’m facing a different woman, dark skinned and avoiding my eyes
I tell her I’m trying my best to make up for loss and failures
we do not reconcile
 
#irvingpaulpereira #oneiricnovel #dailywriting2016 #dailywriting
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