Waiting Room Number

by The Night Voice

Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.

They call me by a number because the hallway is crowded, not because I have become one. In my bag: a paperback, peppermints, a list of questions creased at the hardest one. Across from me, a woman knits three blue rows, then pulls one out. We are not symbols of courage. We are people waiting to hear what comes next.
60 words · 14 lines · Free Verse
breast cancerwaiting roomdiagnosisuncertaintyenumerationcontrastsymbolismfree-verse

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