Uncle History has that hospital smell
An odor of iodine and bleach
Say what you will
It’s the scent of realism
The nurses bring fresh linens
Fear-stink
Slips through the weave
“Would you like the drapes opened?”
“Would you like a toy from childhood?”
But he’s not a patient
He sweeps through the corridors
Swinging a reverse chalice
Vacuuming up
The reek of collective fear
So he can keep it
All for himself
Planet of the Blind 