Unsettling

Ten little Indians all in a line,

One got  cancer

And then there were nine.

A March afternoon.

Two bridge tables. 

At each are women,over 50,

Playing Mah Jong.

It’s a comfortable day,

No winners yet.  

Sheila’s face contorts

As she complains about a sudden stomach pain.

Comments and suggestions abound.

“Perhaps its food poisoning,”

“Appendix could be the problem,”

“Lie down, it may pass.”

The pain did not subside

And Sheila went home.

Four days later a diagnosis 

Changed everything.

Nine women will, on a day in June,

Pause, amidst the bric-a-brac of living,

To consider how lucky they are

And how terrible is Sheila’s fate.

None of the bridge chairs showed any markings

That told who would return for another game.

Would a different seating arrangement

Have produced a reshuffling of life’s tiles?

Visiting hours at the hospice are flexible,

But it hardly matters.

Family comes, cries and ... waits.