Katrina Kaye

There is eagerness
in the quiver of your knee.

I feel the rattle
of muscle to bones,
a rougher metal.

I reach for your thigh
as kind as bitch to cub,
hold you still
and our eyes meet.

Caught off guard you
waken from trance.
Come back to me.

You smile.

I take my hand away,
but you catch it with
quick fingers. You say
you are not scared,

but I know well the
carved edges of waiting
room walls and how fake
wood on office doors peels
around the edges.

I’ve been counting the
tiny dots on ceiling tile
for my whole life
just waiting for it to
fall in on me and now
I bring you here,

lover, friend, child.
I am more frightened
than I have ever been.

“At the Clinic” is previously published in To Anyone Who Has Ever Loved a Writer (2014).