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.