Anteroom
“I don’t want to alarm you, but . . . . ”
Don’t
but
strikes the eardrum first. And then
that ellipsis
trailing its wake of silence.
What? what?
Tonight you have been detained
in the holding tank of gel and electrodes
where a stylus monitors your quaking.
Again you are made
to repeat your name.
In the hush and babble of the ER
the whitecoats hover and confer.
Lucky you! Not a single positive
this time.
You may go home
to that other life with its soothing clatter,
you’ve rehearsed
the required emotions.
Once again you have passed the test
for the wrong disaster.