Clinical

 



Draping sleeves



of a white coat drag



and the seams of them are openly unraveling like spiderwebs.





I question the small stitch



missed. The flat white is a glass dam.



Fear and pain wells up on the other side.



I can see it in their eyes



threads of glass



coarse and aching.



What are words or tears or touch



when all is smooth and closed? I don’t



know either. I stand and watch the dam make a deep lake deeper



the fish drinking the blood water



and becoming fat. Alone



the spider travels from epicenter to edge



and the web is stark



and scentless beneath its legs.