THE DOCTORS CHAIR – AMBER CALVER
The doctor’s chair is leather
With a squeak he never fixed
He crosses one leg carefully
Like posture still exists
The clock behind him ticks too loud
The diplomas lean askew
He says, “This won’t take long at all,”
Like that’s a thing that’s true
There’s a window with a garden
That no one ever goes
The flowers look well-educated
In disciplined little rows
He clears his throat apologetically
Like manners still apply
Then asks me questions gently
That rearrange my life
I nod like this is ordinary
Like I’ve heard this every day
Like people don’t come undone here
In the doctor’s chair
He mentions percentages
As if they’re people I might know
He uses words like manageable
And slow
He taps his pen in perfect time
Avoids my eyes on cue
The room is very quiet now
Except for what is new
And I sit up straight and listen
Like I’ve learned how this is done
If you don’t react too strongly
They think you’ve won
The walls are painted hopeful
A colour called beige repair
I thank him for his honesty
From the doctor’s chair
I notice every detail now
The dust, the framed degree
The plant that’s slightly over-watered
Like it’s drowning silently
I wonder if he practices this speech
In front of the glass
Deciding where to pause
And what he lets pass
There’s a version of me standing
Outside this room somewhere
Who doesn’t know what’s waiting
In the doctor’s chair
He’s worrying about small things
Like coffee and the rain
He’s still intact
He’s still the same
So I smooth my jacket carefully
Like the fabric understands
I ask the final question
He folds his hands
He answers with a kindness
That feels almost unfair
Then wheels himself backwards
From the doctor’s chair
The hallway smells like disinfectant
And something trying to be clean
I step back into my life again
Perfectly composed
Completely changed
ON ITUNES & SPOTIFY