Clinical Chill

The way it hits the skin, that disc

of metal, stark. A sudden risk

of being known, just heart and lung.

My breath held tight, my nerves unstrung.

Watching the doctor on TV,

I felt it again, sharp and freez-

ing, a tiny invasion. Clean.

Antiseptic air, the unseen

dust motes in the harsh, white light.

Reduced to beats, to sound, to plight.

Just a body, a system, bare.

The paper gown, thin everywhere.

That cold, that sharp, insistent probe.

Taking away my everyday robe.