Poem – Vivienne Plumb

The Waiting Room

 

You are the space
I have to go to before
teeth, before tickets,
before examination,
and lying on the funny little bed,
before the train, the plane,
the exam, the interview,
the sudden realisation,
the notification, and the sad,
sad verification.
A coffee stain on the table.
In the last one: rows of toothbrushes
approved by dentists all over the world
and a nasty scuff on the wall
near the exit sign, it wasn’t me.

 

Vivienne Plumb

Tagged with: , ,
Posted in Poem
Search the archive
Generic selectors
Exact matches only
Search in title
Search in content
Post Type Selectors
Filter by Categories
Architecture
Art
Autobiography
Awards
Biography
Byline
Children
Comment
Contents
ebooks
Economics
Editorial
Education
Essays
Extract
Fiction
Gender
Graphic novel
Health
History
Imprints
Language
Lecture
Letters
Letters
Literature
Māori
Media
Memoir
Music
Natural History
Non-fiction
Obituaries
Opinion
Pacific
Photography
Plays
Poem
Poetry
Politics & Law
Psychology
Religion
Review
Science
Short stories
Sociology
Sport
War
YA Reviewers
Young adults
Recent issues: subscriber-only access

    Subscribe to NZ Books to access the issues above

    Search by category

    See more