Welcome to Day 10 of my 30-Day Poetry Challenge!
Comment on today’s poem to win a copy of my poetry book, “(After) Confession… I’m giving away a copy every day. Scroll down below the poem for more details about this Poetry Challenge.
But first, congratulations, Sharon from Texas, for winning a free copy of my poetry book! (I do a raffle from those who commented on yesterday’s post.) Sharon, please email me your address so I can send your prize: email@example.com
Now onto today’s poem. Don’t forget to comment, and check back tomorrow to see if you’ve won!
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Today’s prompt: write a poem of simultaneity – in which multiple things are happening at once. (I took inspiration from the medical procedure I had just today!)
On the Table
I am Procedure #2, waiting in exam room 29.
I am radiofrequency ablation left knee, ID
bracelet on wrist, birthday repeated to each
staff, allergies yes, medications list confirmed,
height, weight, last time eating, consent
Walking in, the low thrum of anxiety, deep breaths,
I’ve done this before.
Greeting nurses and staff who all look familiar by now.
Learning to put on a cheerful face, smile, joke, wear
earrings lipstick fun socks (my armor).
Asking names, eye contact, small talk,
all this is a kind of lubrication making everything
go better somehow…. the human element.
Asking for valium three times, I am patiently
a patient, waiting.
On the table, chilled white tiled room,
scent is chemically, medicinally
clean, I am now exposed left knee,
yellow with cold antiseptic
scrub, everything busily prepped,
doctor nurses talk laugh, X-ray
machine hovering, and then I am
numbing agent, 3 needles pushed
in knee, adjusted, just the right place,
they do their thing efficiently, and
soon I am post-procedure papers,
escorted out, checked off the list
I lay back willing myself to relax, positive thoughts, despite this
cold sterile place. Breathe deep.
Surrounded by blue scrubs blue caps white masks, I see only eyes.
I hear their talk about funny commercials, comment cheerfully
when I’m asked.
I juggle a false bravado, doing my part to create my environment.
Blood pressure cuff squeeze, breathe deep.
Needles pierce and thrust, relax the knee, breathe deep.
Time passes, the limbo of waiting, then done.
Back to room 29, giddy with relief and Valium.
Husband comes in with a kiss, walks me out. Free.
At home, I cut off the plastic bracelet, no need to remind anyone
who I really am.
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- I’m writing and posting a new poem every day through the month of April (yikes!), for better or worse.
- AND, as a gift, I’m giving away a copy of my poetry book EVERY DAY this month. FREE!
- Sign up to WIN a copy of (After) Confession by just leaving a comment beneath the poem of the day.
- I will pick a winner every day in April! So comment every day for a new chance to win.
This month’s posts are part of the NaPoWriMo challenge — that’s National Poetry Writing Month. At NaPoWriMo.net, you’ll find links to other participating writers and their poetry. AND daily writing prompts for inspiration to write your own poems. Check them out.
I’m so looking forward to your comments– it doesn’t have to be about the poem. Write anything, share the name of your favorite poet or poem, write about the weather, whatever! And thanks for reading.
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Photo credit: Natanael Melchor, and Rawpixel, courtesy of Unsplash.com