GOLD MEDAL FOR EVE
by Thomas Hoskyns Leonard
Dedicated to Eve (Ward 206, Royal Edinburgh Infirmary)
Lady Eve of the Lamp,
Saviour in uniform full vamp,
Waits in Ward 206 for sick to encamp
Lest they to Heaven decamp.
My arms and head tremble and shake
During a literary lunch with heartache.
In the nighr my leg catches fire on the bake,
So Julie and Scott me to the Royal Infirm take.
Pushed on the Red Line to Eternity
In a swerving wheelchair by my fraternity,
I crash onto the ground for my fragility;
Scott loses gum in eye for his agility.
In Dickensian holding ward, demented ninety-year old
Rules the fort, taunts nurses and doctors for sport.
They've filled me with vein scorching anti-biotic
That doesn't even turn me psychotic.
On upwards in Trolley to Ward 206,
In a place more like Folksvangr than the Styx,
Where angels reign and Lucifer does not linger,
Where God peers at sheep, and points his finger.
My leg boils while nurses toil
To find a vein my infection to foil;
But veins twist and turn, as nurses grind and churn;
Skin splits,flesh rots,and blood flows, while I burn.
But Sister Eve waves her hips, and finds a place,
Which she can with her silver needle a spot engrace;
She slides it in, as neat as a pin,
And I begin to pull out of my fiery spin,
Oh Sister Eve, wondrous Goddess of Love,
You made me feel like a brotherly dove.
You deserve a gold medal for your expertise,
And this I award you for your synchronicitise,
Which Fortuna herself could not egalitise.
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