as I prepare to leave the hospital the ritual begins
I wash my hands
wipe down my phone, my badge
I clean my computer, my workstation for the day
walking out of the workroom, I handle the doorknob
the elevator buttons
more sanitizer, I rub it between my hands
right before the exit my mask comes off
into my ziplock bag, into my backpack
away until tomorrow
the fresh night air hits my face
I begin the walk home
buildings loom in the distance
keys escape my jacket pocket
another elevator, more buttons
unlocking the front door
my shoes come offÂ
placed in a large open cardboard box by the entrance
my backpack placed besides
straight to the sink in my socks
I wash my hands
take my scrubs off
laundry detergent spills into the washing machine
scrubs follow, even though I probably won’t turn it on tonight
watch off, glasses on the counter
water from the shower head cascades down my back
the stress, the stories, the sadness down the drain
finally I am free
to repeat it all again tomorrow
