THE NIGHTLY BATTLE

 

I could no longer put it off. Bodies had been washed and cleaned, and caked-on excrement sponged off and disposed of. The final cups of tea had been slurped and sucked, and the evening shift was coming to an end.

 

Except for one last chore. The glasses beside the beds wait expectantly to receive their gruesome charges.

 

Plunging my hand into the first mouth, I grope around soggy clumps of biscuit crumbs jostling with pieces of masticated corn. Drooling secretions ooze between my fingers, covering them with a slimy film as I poke and prise.

 

There is always a struggle, as some faint memory of ownership reasserts itself in a painful clamp on my hand. Releasing it from harm I start the process again.

 

Success at last, as I drop the dripping, discoloured teeth into the glass. Particles of food, released from crevices, float sluggishly in the water.

 

Now for the lower set. As my stomach heaves up to my throat, I gag it back, and again plunge my hand into the unwilling mouth.

 

Cleo Lynch

ã 2006

About cleolynch

Retired. Worked in NSW Corrections = published memoir C areering into Corrections - inaugural manager of the first pre-release community Transitional Centre (for women) in NSW. Now do voluntary work - State Library - editorial panel of Volunteers' Voices magazine. Invited to be speaker on my book, writing, and other activities.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s