PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I lied flat on the examining table,

lights blinding me

so I closed my eyes cautiously;

my arms were stretched out

and restrained.



They dimmed the lights

so I opened my eyes again

to the vision of a dozen hands

ready to touch me

saying they could see

the want in my eyes.



I couldn’t see their hands

as they disappeared under

the stark white sheet,

but I felt the soreness begin

as they roughly probed

and prodded.



They said they were careful,

that callous, gloved hands

and sterile air

would keep me

uncontaminated.



Little did they know

the disease was spreading

before they ever touched me,

and their medical precautions

only kept them from

catching what I already had.