The Sick Room



The cable line runs beneath
radiators – generating heat
you are in bed
one ear smothered
with a feather pillow
another ear listening to

“Good Morning America.”

your thumb pushes a button,
every station is talking about
a man who killed his family
in a fit of rage

Good Morning America repeats

“He was known as a man
who cared about his family.”

blinds cover cheap
windows – cool air
seeps between the window frames

your thumb pushes a button
change the channel –

now a room becomes blurry,
eyes foggy – half seeing
a mind wondering –


A man is talking about
dinosaurs, as legs stretch
and necks become longer. . .

Push. Push.

A man touched a rock,
played games with monkeys,
made friends with a bear  –

You swallow pills in the sick room. 

Discovery Channel”

Remains of a skeleton.
Water came first, before
the mountains.
The screen projects a
four legged creature as
a monster creeps closer
toward the edge of the
screen –

Your head, rests on a
stack of pillows –
a needle inserted into
a vein as clear liquid
drips drop by drop into
a clear tube from a plastic
bag –

Whose sweater is hanging
from my bedpost?

Your control floats –
you reach to catch it –
glancing toward your
night stand as light becomes
brighter –
eyes from a picture sitting
on the stand – staring back
at you…

“Discovery,” is gone.

Who placed a quilt on the

Push.  Push. 

A man is on the news
praising a man who killed
his family.

  1. Andrew J. Sacks says

    Nancy, fine work. Yes, we live with others–but we also live alone.

  2. Nancy Duci Denofio says

    Andrew while I wrote this I pictured being in a room, where medication has taken over your thoughts, and your mind sees things, that are not there. Thanks so much for your comment. Nancy

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