If this waiting is hellish, then the sick are limbo dancing;
only those who are bent double, or on the floor, puddles
of their former selves, have a hope of getting under the bar,
progressively lowered as more contorted squeeze through.

If the woman in a white coat is god, then the boy with bleeding hands
has stigmata, the man with closed eyes on the stretcher is Lazarus,
and the toddler pushing donkey-on-wheels up and down,
up and down, is one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.