Oncology

There, the door.
The panel of light.
The square, sealed, white.
Locked with steel
and out of sight.

The floor is clean, clear.
Ticks with steps of nurses' heels.
Brownish smooth.
A reflective sign of holy purity.

The chairs, three.
One of me.
Nobody else.
Nobody to see.
All bodys gone.
Just me, to wait.
To wait.
To wait.
To wait.
To wait.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.