You're sitting wired up.
The white coat shifts past you and
beep
all the hairs on your arms stand to attention.
It's only the machine reacting
to your quickening heartbeat.
Surely there’s no need, sweetheart?
Name? (only a preliminary) You reply.
It’s a start, I suppose.
Pen across paper,
a biting silence as you squirm.
Is it uncomfortable, being watched? Waiting?
Darling, why the damp forehead?
Beep
Beep
Beep
Your mouth twitches at the sting of words
as you try to swallow the lies
like cyanide.