1. Waiting Room
Out of breath and just in time,
a smell of disinfectants.
Did I jot down the right number?
It should be number fourteen
There is a long row of identical doors, all numbered.
We sit.
On a gray-colored bench like ours
a couple drinks coca-cola in complete cadance.
Like on the tick of a metronome
they move their heads far backward,
holding the bottle in the right hand,
now the head clicks upward.
The man's Adams apple shows me he drinks.
The woman drinks too, no Adams apple here.
We sit. Is it the right door?
Observing other waiting people, I see
that the consumption of chewing gum
increased considerably compared to chewing
on the street. A boy with pimples hides
his gum, sticking it under his bench.
We sit, somewhat nervous.
On the gray wall hangs a nurse,
a warning finger on her mouth
tells us that we are in a hospital
and therefore should shut up.
Not everybody got the message.
We sit. My doubt of door number doubles.
Number fourteen opens a crack,
and a white-cloaked assistant calls us in.
The verdict over the rest of our life follows.
The second poem of this series can be found in my portfolio.
Title: Locking-Unlocking. Posted on February 17/20.
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Author Notes
Several of the poems that belong to the series A Silent Cry were previously posted in FanStory. Each time one of those fits in the sequence, I will make a reference of the title and the date when it was posted. They can all be found in my portfolio.
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