Compassion and poverty
sit side by side
at the family clinic
where I wait this morning.
The walls of reception
are papered with notices
of flue shots and heart disease
and paintings by children.
Old couples natter
through cheerful false teeth,
tired chests heaving,
breathing too hard.
Doctors move swiftly
in sneakers, speak kindly.
Treat patients like family
with dignity and humour.
The air is bustling
and sprinkled with coughing.
An hour later, I am called.
The nurse completes her examination.
I leave with a smile.
Alison Cassidy
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/annual-pap-smear/
