January 8, 2013


The doctor says
I must have a test.
to see
if I'm still alive.
I'm given a drug
for eternal rest,
just in case
I don't survive.
I'm laid out in a gown
without a back,
rolled down a hallway
past closed doors.
I'm asked to describe
my symptoms again,
to make sure
I'm the real me.
They all say I won't
remember much,
for there's nothing
beneath to see.