Tuesday, October 5, 2010

The Patient

The minutes filled with sounds that should have been so familiar
As I sat behind a closed door and heard
A patient's chart dropped into its plastic holder;
Footfalls muffled on the tan carpeting,
Paired with a voice of soothing efficiency.
I shivered in a thin white gown, faded with blue squares
And waited.
My eyes traced a row of glass jars filled with gauzes,
And sticks tipped with cotton.
The minutes slowly passed
On the other side of a white coat.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I hope your feeling better.