In the Waiting Room by Nicole Steinberg
I recall geometry to pass the time.
These are four walls, four
Corners: shapes to prevent osmosis.
My feet make a perpendicular angle.
The bad news is parallel to my weak handshake.
There are three equilateral rules:
The doctors don’t care,
Your mother will get over it,
Do not attempt to assess your self-worth
A polygonal mess,
Lines sprayed every way, like insecticide.
Did you ever clutch a phone to your cheek and
Pretend that someone was listening? Did it hurt?
Or was it a pillow over your face—
The trick you’re too anxious to try.