The metal plate sinks
by Caleb
· 09/12/2025
Published 09/12/2025 08:35
The metal plate sinks
cold, too sharp against skin—
a brief shock that rings louder
than the soft thump of my own heartbeat.
It presses, insists,
chilling through layers that usually hold.
My ribs tense beneath its weight,
waiting for a sound that never quite comes.
The doctor holds it there
longer than needed,
as if listening
might pull the cold deeper inside me.
The silence that follows
is colder still,
a quiet that clings to my chest
long after the touch slips away.