Untitled
Michael D. Emery
The concerned hand of a lover
trying to comfort nervous eyes...
Her fingers gingerly hold an empty cup.
The styrofoam
does not hold the heat she needs.
Rushed down sterile white halls,
with cold plastic floors.
Latex gloved hands,
on arms, and breast, and thigh...
Supplies used by doctors who nod
and poke and prod and feel of her,
asking questions and wanting answers,
when all she can say is,
"He..."
"He..."
"He..."
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