The boxes crease has a voice
straight un-crinkled furrow
of precision, shrill with decision.

Created to detect usage,
stacked under the bed
were flats tied in red tape
that whispered 'test the trust.'

Each day before work one box was fashioned
paper cut stain marks and sacred items placed
as proof against tampering.

Upon return, the carton was
inspected thoroughly, for the hours,
as any who might invade the boundary
of privacy would leave tracks.

The sheer noise to invest
all myself on the fact
that someone might transgress
is simply the thing to live for
here on the ward.

AJPIII