3. The Nurse Assists

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The Nurse Assists

“Hello there,
My dear Mrs. Kemp,”
The doctor called out in his
Hearty voice. Broad backside
To her, he searched his bag.
At the sickroom,
Leaning in the doorway,
She took in the scene.
“Mrs. Kemp, my dear—
I fear I must ask,
No cigarettes.”
She blew smoke,
Walked slowly to the bed.
She sat down.
“Forget it,” she said.

He didn’t blink.
That woman, Lord, was rude—
Was worse than rude—
And no nurse, of course.
But he could speak plainly,
In her presence,
Of ills indelicate—
Those secret, leaking parts,
This baby business—
And her husband didn’t care
She left the house.
When she sat with them,
More women lived,
Even those most weak;
And she came cheap.

“I see,” she said,
“Rope tricks, once again!
Magic, ain’t it—give them one of
These, pains disappear.”
She picked up the rope,
The clenched-on hand—
“Yep. Nice and quiet,”
Sucking in some smoke:
“Palm’s raw. Pass that salve.”
The doctor tossed a tin.
“She’s out,” she said,
“I’ll peel off her fingers.”
Yawning: “I assume
You’ve yanked it out by now?”

The doctor snapped his bag.
This one, she would make it,
He thought, satisfied—
She’s young, not too spent.
Only her third try.
“Yes, the poor child’s gone. A tragedy,”
He sighed. “’Ripped untimely
From his mother’s—“
“Yeah, okay,” said Mrs. Kemp,
“I passed third grade, too.”
She unscrewed the lid
And dipped some cream: “You
Just go out and tell that scarecrow
Husband, round up sheets somewhere.
Smell is getting to me.”
She unmade the bed,
Wrinkling up her nose
And shaking quilts:
“Like a sow
Wet in her own dead litter.”

His eyes flinched,
Brows rose. “Madam,”
He said tartly,
“You’ve a way with words.
I’ll be right outside.”
He shut the door.