Mind the gap

We all wear bandages on green ward.
We all wear shades and flat shoes.
We all carry everything we own in a small handbag.

This is an impossible stance, so close to the edge,
no known cure. We are tempted to jump,
or is it that we are being pushed,

pushed towards the hard edge of things.
There is no timetable. The tannoy screams
station names that sound like nice places.

We could refuse to sign the consent forms,
fast track our own demise. Someone can keep
our personal effects, if they really want to.