wearing hoods
(like a cloak)
to hide our faces
we would be mothers slink
into hospitals for
discreet procedures
we size each other up
wonder who did
what? who was
careless? who was
unlucky?
who is
being selfish
right now?
we watch tv
eyes darting to check
out the new arrival
in the room with
the nurses i get my drugs
i am confused when the doctor arrives
my legs are secure in stirrups
but my head slides
she chooses now
to ask me how it happened
(don’t doctors know?)
she lectures me
about birth control
tells me she doesn’t ever
want to see me
in here again
like the guy
at the seven eleven
when i stole
a chocolate bar at age twelve
there is prodding and suction
but i’m too high to care
a nurse tells a story
about a friend
with a bad flu
and there is the hum
of the little vacuum
i try to tell them
about my friend
who chugged Buckleys
cough syrup to catch her breath
in basketball
but they ignore me or
maybe i’m so high
that i don’t realize that
i’m not talking anyways
it’s too bad
it’s a funny story
they wheel me into a room
where i sit with other women
in loungers letting
the drugs wear off
we bleed
through our gowns
get paraded to
the bathroom to change
archaic belted pads
blood stains our robes
for everyone to see
every girl’s worst nightmare
May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 4:15 PM UTC
wearing hoods
(like a cloak)
to hide our faces
we would be mothers slink
into hospitals for
discreet procedures
we size each other up
wonder who did
what? who was
careless? who was
unlucky?
who is
being selfish
right now?
we watch tv
eyes darting to check
out the new arrival
in the room with
the nurses i get my drugs
i am confused when the doctor arrives
my legs are secure in stirrups
but my head slides
she chooses now
to ask me how it happened
(don’t doctors know?)
she lectures me
about birth control
tells me she doesn’t ever
want to see me
in here again
like the guy
at the seven eleven
when i stole
a chocolate bar at age twelve
there is prodding and suction
but i’m too high to care
a nurse tells a story
about a friend
with a bad flu
and there is the hum
of the little vacuum
i try to tell them
about my friend
who chugged Buckleys
cough syrup to catch her breath
in basketball
but they ignore me or
maybe i’m so high
that i don’t realize that
i’m not talking anyways
it’s too bad
it’s a funny story
they wheel me into a room
where i sit with other women
in loungers letting
the drugs wear off
we bleed
through our gowns
get paraded to
the bathroom to change
archaic belted pads
blood stains our robes
for everyone to see
every girl’s worst nightmare
poems from my twenties
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