The Stethoscope

The stethoscope languidly alights
From the cozy rear seat of the sleek car
Run by high-pressures, low-pressures, diabetes, gastrics,
Stomachaches, wounds, rashes and epileptic-fits.
Cooled by colds, fevers, coughs and tonsils,
And maintained by colourful painkillers.

It broods below its owner’s mouth which smiles
Clinically adjusting the curve of the lower lip
To suit the height, weight or the blood group of the client.

Offended being forced to catch hesitant pulses
The classy tube haughtily reverses its function
And makes the heart hear the beating of the brain, diagnosing
The palpitations of the share market.

Now being old and long discarded,
Lamely lying among broken toys and empty vials in a musty chest,
It vaguely hears the snores of the old master
Sleeping on pills and dreaming of wills.