Grace's Dumb Stare 1940 Poem by Terry Collett

I am lifted
by two nurses;
(I hear them
talk to each other)
and stare at each in turn
with my blind eyes,
hoping they won't
drop me.

They lay me
on a trolley,
and then push me
on the trolley past others,
and voices and sounds
coming and going.

Where are we going?
I ask.

To see Doctor Quinn,
he wants to see
how the leg stumps
are healing,
a nurse says
close to me.

How are my stumps?
I ask.

They seem to be
healing quite well,
a nurse says,
but the doctor wants
to see for himself.

I lie quiet after that
and we enter
a warmer room,
and I grab sounds
as I pass
trying to make
a picture in my mind
about where we are.

We come to a standstill,
and a man's voice says:
ah, Miss Meadows,
I am Doctor Quinn,
I am here to examine
your leg stumps
to see how
they are healing.

I say nothing;
I just nod my head,
and wait.

I sense his fingers
unwrap the bandages,
and I feel his fingers
near my skin;
he removes the bandages,
and fresh air
hits my skin.

Yes they look fine,
he says,
his fingers touch me,
lifts the stumps
one after the other:
I think we can soon
decide about maybe
artificial legs.

Artificial legs?
I say,
imagining
god knows what.

You will need
to learn how
to walk again
in a sense of course,
he says,
but it will come
and we will have you
on your feet again
I am sure,
he says,
but it will be a time
as there is a huge demand
at the moment
in wartime for them
as you can appreciate,
he adds,
not giving me a chance
to speak.

Right nurse
re-bandage
fresh bandages,
and keep
the stumps clean.

He goes
and I lie there
thinking and looking
into darkness
with a dumb stare.