Tonight's Poet Corner: Clinic

Clinic
by Belinda Roddie 

She stood against the
railing,
knuckles
white,

marble
glaring
outward

at the
white bed with
white sheets.

Her lover was
speaking with a
masked
medic
who nodded and
scratched
at binder paper with a
jaunty pen that had no ink.

She didn't know whether to
cry
or
scream

but this whole thing
felt like a
dream

and either way,
she would
walk into that
room very
soon

and
hold her lover to her chest
as the tears mingled into the
deep
IV.

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