I Must Speak for this Man – poems by doctors

I have forgotten the day, the month, the year.

I have forgotten the feel of salt wind

On the skin, the velvet of cats.

I have forgotten mouth organ music,

The tang of metal on teeth,

The smell of durian, the scent of the frangipan,

Rough wool at the throat.

I have forgotten the Kowloon waterfront,

The thin limbs in the small hours,

How many times I have been drunk,

The number of fights I have started and stopped.

I have forgotten my friend, companion and lover.

I have forgotten his name.

I have forgotten the condescension of my nurses,

The slops I had for breakfast,

The last time I shat myself.

I have forgotten my hopes for the future.

I suck breath. I soak my bed.

I am dead but do not die.

There is no more to me.

Edward John Anderson is a retired GP. The poem was selected by Femi Oyebode.

Published in The Hippocrates Prize Anthology, Hippocrates Press, 2012.

© Edward John Anderson. Reprinted with permission.