MRI

Poem Info
301 words
5
3.5k
0
Poem does not have any tags
Share this Poem

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Terrified,
shallow breathed,
I lay on my back
with the plastic shield
over my face.

It could be my coffin.
My throat is tight and
she hasn’t even
done the injection.

I am intensely allergic to contrast.
An Epinephrine shot waits
on the tray next to me
just in case.
My body is full of benadril.

The attendant reassures me
that she will do the push slow
and that that will help my body not respond.

I wait to see if
it will be itching discomfort
or poured fire ants
into my blood stream.

A scratching itch slides inside
the left side of my neck
and moves down.

I feel the ache inside my wrist.
My body begins to bloom
but it isn’t going to be a bad reaction,
no spontaneous sneezing,
or coughing.
I can still breath,
no burst of headache,
no ants.

The itch expands
insidious under my skin.
I get to live through it.
Loud clanks and clicks,
sound around me as the machine grinds.

Into my cunt the itching burn spreads
as mucus membranes rebel,
the inside of my ears,
my mouth and throat.
My eyes are hot hard rocks.
They will be bloodshot.
when I get up.

Miserable, I wait.
I hate this ritual.
I cannot move.
They use threats to get me here.
They use the words:
tumor
blindness
could be cancer.

They point to my head
to my nose and the small lingering scar
from where they went in once
to take death out.

My throat constricts.
The machine spits me back into the room.
as if I taste as bad as I feel.
The test is over
except for the results.
They say they will call.

I drive the two hours home alone.
my fear keeping me company,
restlessly changing radio stations.

Please rate this poem
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
5 Comments
TathagataTathagataover 18 years ago
The fire ants

was a great description but this verse really brought it all together:

~They point to my head

to my nose and the small lingering scar

from where they went in once

to take death out.~

Perfect.

I enjoy your work very much

AnonymousAnonymousover 18 years ago
you capture....

...the claustrophobia and angst so well. Well done. Not an easy poem to write.

Tess

dcpoet44dcpoet44over 18 years ago
these two lines.......

have me on fire:

or poured fire ants

into my blood stream.

very nice read throughout.......don

AnonymousAnonymousover 18 years ago
yes

been there -- done that

CuriouswifeCuriouswifeover 18 years ago
I love your writing

You describe the moment so well.

Share this Poem