My doctor tells me I will need a scan;
I tap a nervous rhythm with my feet,
“Just count to five,” she says, “and then sit down.
The gist of it is printed on this sheet,
So read it over when you are at home.
We’ll have a clearer picture when we meet.”
I read the letter in a waiting room,
Its language strangely rich for one like me
Image, Contrast, Resonance; a poem
