The hotel

Posted on Oct 3, 2014 in Poetry, Writing

The hotel is large.
I’ve climbed all its floors
Many a sleepy night
In my bed.
And I’ve even gone low
To its tunnels below
And wound far and long
through its depths.
The rooms are occasionally
Rented, with vacancy
With a door key given
At the desk.
But at times they’re a hospital
Where people, irresponsible
Have their limbs sewed back on
for a test.