Courtesy of Julie Morrissy.
they leave me in a lino-cubicle
another bargain blue basket
for my bra and jeans
I pace behind the curtain
let the liquid settle
the doctor tells me to take off my coat
I need a canula and we are
ten minutes behind schedule
he says I can’t go to the bathroom and I feel
like I’m in school again
when a nurse notices me shivering
I put my coat back on
the doctor inserts the needle
little pinch
takes it out unused
forty minutes later
when they realise I am allergic
to the contrast
there have been other blue baskets this year
at the breast clinic
other days when I shivered in a gown
with smiling women
tea and biscuits
accordion curtains dancing in the stillness
of another disease detection unit
breasts and torso squeezed and flattened
little pinch
and you’re back on the street
they say I’ll hear instructions in the tube
through the headphones
please breathe in
there’s a blue sky painted on the ceiling
and the room feels calming until
please breathe out
you realise
please breathe in and hold your breath
you can’t see the ceiling from inside the tunnel
I jerk-slide in increments
reminded on each movement
please resume breathing
please breathe in and hold your breath