• Poetry

She trickles

from the waiting room,

her fluid form

spilling over the starched white

of the exam table.

Each movement

stirring her skin

like wind-skipped river rock.

She is nineteen years old

with a history

of Depression,

two elective abortions,

dental veneers

and breast implants.

Her chief complaint

is pain, rising

from coarse red lines

etched across her forearms—

hidden under linen sleeves.

The whole of her,

a quiet stream of rushing water

seeking a vessel

to pour inside.