I lay flat and still.
I am told to lay flat and still.
Crunching, grinding, whirring
Circular sounds, round and round.
The next test takes 22 minutes,
The grating starts and restarts.
I am breathing shallow, trying
Not to muck up the image.
As usual, it’s unremarkable,
Normal, typical, all the same.
My groan of disappointment.
The pain continues to dominate.
Take more pills, use these patches,
Go on with the dull, disillusioned life.
The machine takes its next turn.
Nothing major, but maybe serious.
Don’t do that; do these exercises.
Come to this machine.
Come to this diagnostic.
Try again, try again, try again.
© 2017 Valerie Hathaway