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(Training-for-War re-write; This poem is tribute to great orthopedic doctors & surgeons of that era. This poem is reflective of the times and times change.)

My room was at the
end-of-the-line
past the room full of
white kids
(next to the playroom of course)
past the room full of
de los ninos puertorriquenos
past the room full of
colored children

My bed was the one
with the metal bars
and the foot strap
for tying up
mythological creatures
from a bygone era

Took a couple nurses
to do the tie-down
“THESE children are very strong you know”
we have to keep them tied
least they escape
and meet Rex Havoc
or upset the parents
of the other children
by mere sight

Time for the blood work
let’s get out the white sheet
roller er’ up like a sausage
stick needles in the ankle bone
shove 100,000 IU
of Vitamin D
down the throat

My training thus began
at the tender age of 2 ½
fighting forces four times
bigger than myself
foreshadowing a life
that was trying to
keep me
under the rug

weeks later
time to go
all the testing was done
to determine
which type of
mythological creature
I was

The verdict went like this:

“Years ago, in many cultures, children like these grew up to be respected and
looked highly upon, but not today.”

Myself and my well-trained army left
to pick up the battle
on a later day

A hospital for children
In the dark ages of 1963
If I were to tell you where
medical records would disappear
Don’t you see? IT NEVER HAPPENED
Godamm dwarf just keeps on having delusions

~Copyright Valerie Ciolek~