The Waiting Room at St. Joseph’s
– Veronica Brady
I have this memory.
There is fluorescent lighting and the floor is so white it’s just a reflection of it.
Like the ocean does with sky or the other way around.
I am leaning over a balcony but the balcony is inside of a building and that doesn’t make any sense.
There is probably a word for this structure but I don’t know what it is.
I only know I am leaning over it.
My mother is speaking to me through a cellphone.
My mother is telling me she is sorry.
She is so sorry.
So so sorry – and I haven’t even said any words.
I am breathing so heavily and I think it is raining.
I think the fluorescent lights are raining on to their reflection
but maybe I am crying.
“Why do our bodies do this?”
I am thinking this but what I really mean is,
“Now your body will never do this again.”
and now it is so hard to be in my bed
breathing heavily with so much rain for
the both of us.
There is so much rain for the both of us.
Only my body can do this.
There is so much rain.
Both of our bodies.
Only so much rain for the both of us.
Only my body.
I am only raining for you.
My body is so much rain for the both of us.