A Heath For Lear, A Corridor For Us

by Alan Holder

King Lear required a storm upon a heath
to bring him down from his crazy height,
acknowledge his, our, bare, fork’d animal.
Another sort of fall may await any of us.
a plunge into a hospital, our robe a thin,
back-split gown, our scepter the I-V stand
we clutch as we traverse our kingdom,
the corridor, glancing into its many rooms,
wondering what breakdown of bone or blood,
of heart or gut, has brought the occupants there,
our intransigent bodies clawing back
the gifts of themselves.