A place of soft extremes.
Gentle strum of guitar some days;
Low conversation
Muted coughs
Flickering eyes
Fixed stares.
One day the wild clang of a bell
Brings all hands together in hope.

Your name, called briskly,
Summons you to the controlled zone for kind abuse of cells.
Friendly staff ask the question nobody answers truthfully; a few seconds of small talk while you prepare.
You climb aboard the hard scanner bed to be positioned with precision,
Strapped down, immovable.
The mask presses tightly. Breathe.
Codes and numbers are called out.
The room clears,
Then whirring, alarms.
Light shines through closed lids
Lesions begin to blossom like weeds.

Ten minutes later you walk the
Now-familiar warren to the outside;
Soft rain and the promise of a nap.
Another day ticked off.