THE WAITING ROOM WOUNDS
When I
first got ‘sick’,
I was
[OVERLOOKED]
I held still, body biting to talk
to talk
to talk
No one
wondered if a voice can forget how to work.
[I CAN’T BREATHE]
I care about my
exhale.
I stared out the office window for a while
like the answer might be out there —
in the way the sun cooks
the asphalt of the car-
crowded parking lot;
the way the birds
swoop and sing.
while the doctor drones
about my nothing-care.
This is tiring, all this talking
“What does your worry look like?”
Antiseptic smell brings the hospital edge, the heave
of breath as I sit like prey in an open field and
cage of noise. White walls blur my vision
like staring into sunbeams — disorienting.
The burn of tears building and the ache of exhaustion.
My body, the visage of a scarecrow packed with sand,
head lolling and limbs lagging . . . hollow eyes unfocused.
Like a single, sterile thread unraveled, slowly
my grip on reality fades, much like my mobility,
as they tell me: I am PERFECTLY HEALTHY (but could stand to lose weight)
as they tell me: that I am FINE FINE FINE
as they tell me: JUST GO TO THERAPY (despite already having 10 yrs of it)
as they tell me: IT'S THE ANXIETY
Decline is seeing what you need and being denied anyway.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO TELL YOU?”
Must I speak lies onto record for them to listen care,
whisper them my pity porn
so they can believe me.
Must I crack open my skull and lay bare
for them to examine in scrutiny.
so they can believe me.
Must I excise these breasts in my bath,
spill sinew onto tile; blood into drains
so they will LISTEN
Must I puncture this abdomen
and dig a uterus out myself;
become my own surgeon
so they will PAY ATTENTION.
Must I bring death to my doorstep
and scalpel to skin, myself
so they will TREAT me.
THE FLOOR
was on the ceiling
and I am abandoned; seizing on the side
of the road next to smeared raccoon; ROADKILL
I BECOME ROADKILL in this bedrot body,
I spill my sick onto the sidewalk as others gawk;
let the concrete shave off this rough outer peel
of scar-stained skin until I am nothing
more than a thing underfoot, staining your boot.