Visiting Hour

• 'combs my nostrils'

  
• 'What seems like a corpse is trundled into a lift'

  
• 'Nurses walk swiftly, lightly, here and up and down and there'

  
• 'She lies in a white cave of forgetfulness'

  
• 'fruitless fruits'

  
• 'clumsily rises in the round swimming waves of a bell'

  
• 'Into an arm wasted of colour a glass fang is fixed, not guzzling but giving."

  
• 'A withered hand trembles on its stalk'