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The doctor’s office grants no place
beyond the floor’s gray lines
to form and color. Here is space
clean scrubbed and blank, defined

by tile. Phone chorus, keyboard taps,
and beeping screens resound
in dis-ease: “Wait to be called back.”
I glance beyond the ground.

One tired, waiting, holds his wife’s
well-wrinkled hand. With moving lips,
eyes closed against fluorescent lights
these patients’ patience gives

rare things their form: see here,
the lobby’s poetry
lives, if intermittently.

Photo by Mak on Unsplash

Sarah Reardon

Sarah Reardon is a teacher from Maryland. She has worked as Managing Editor for Front Porch Republic, and her writing has appeared in First Things, Plough, Ekstasis Magazine, and elsewhere.