The ceiling tile has a yellow ring

The ceiling tile has a yellow ring

where a pipe must have leaked

three winters ago.

I’ve counted the dots in the acoustic foam

until my eyes feel like marbles.

A nurse walks past with a tray

of small plastic cups.

She doesn’t look at the row of us,

all sitting with our hands between our knees.

The linoleum is waxed so tight

it reflects the overhead tubes

like a pool of stagnant water

we are all afraid to fall into.