Hamburger Lady

Poem by Genesis P-Orridge
By far the worst is the hamburger lady.
We must heal them for the qualified technicians,
Worse,
Alternating nights,
Unrelievedly
She's lying there.

Hamburger Lady
Hamburger Lady

She's dying.
She is burned from the waist up.
On her arm.
Her ear is burned off,
Her nose is burned off,
Her eyelashes are burned,
Her fingers are burned.
She can't hold anything up
and with medical advances,
there's no end in sight
for the Hamburger Lady.

When somebody tells you there’s a level of pain
beyond the human mind.
The lady on the potty-chair.
Leave her,
She's not burned from the waist down.
That’s what keeps her alive.
The tubes
And the nightmares.

Hamburger Lady.
Hamburger Lady.

He was okay when he went to go change the tubes
Tubes in her legs,
and tubes in her arms.
And he managed okay
Then he came out and saw one of the burn nurses
at the desk, eating a can of chilli-mac
And he flashed on the carpet,
And he flashed on the floor.

The hamburger lady.

She came to rest.
They’re squeamish.
Can’t work with her and keep their meal down;
the “qualified technicians.”

Hamburger Lady
Hamburger Lady

She's been here over two weeks.
In pain.
In a level of pain,
on that potty chair.
They can't keep their meals down.
The "qualified technicians."

The tubes in her arms.
The tubes in her legs.
Are what keep her alive.

They flashed on the carpet,
They flashed on the floor.
They came.

Hamburger Lady
Hamburger Lady
(Contributed by Mutlee on Wednesday, April 6th, 2011)
 
See All Poetry