by Esther Greenleaf Murer
The results came back from the hospital tests:
"Collapsed bladder grossly unremarkable."
Well excuse me, Mr. Hospital, for having
such an insufferably boring bladder.
Sorry it grossed you out, but these things
do happen. Whole cultures collapse unheeded,
eclipsed by the glare of golden arches.
Species become extinct and nobody notices.
The polar ice caps fragment into the sea
and the President declares it a non-event.
Our civil liberties crash before our eyes
and we yawn and switch channels.
So I guess I can (sigh) expect the HMO
to deny my claim: "We are not amused."
Esther Greenleaf Murer lives in Philadelphia. At 72, she considers herself an emerging poet. Her poems have appeared most recently in Types & Shadows, Light, and New Verse News, and more are forthcoming on The Ghazal Page.