Mount Sinai at 9:08 AM.

i have five minutes to write a poem.
i have five minutes before they take my phone.
i have five minutes to call my mother. to tell her i love her,
but i'm sorry i can't promise another five minutes outside this place.
i have five minutes before the doctors arrive.
five more to text him goodbye.
five minutes until i must lay my life history out like a splayed heart to stranger, after stranger, after stranger, and still,
i will be judged.
five until my life is not my own.
five until the halls are filled with those, calling out to strange things, the voices they hear, and i do not feel safe.
five minutes, i have, i hold, a cup of peace before the beast
of this place, places me at her breast.
five minutes of rest.





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© 2018 Monica Lewis