Lavender Gloves

April 22, 2009 § 2 Comments

glovesNational Poetry Month Day 22.  The prompt today is “work.”




When did they start making lavender gloves,
I wonder as I lie on
the chilly plastic chair-lounge thing.
I bring a wrap after all these times; it
folds around me – thin and woolly wings.

Smiling, the young woman wipes the
crook of my arm with iodine bloody-orange
tracks, sweeping in circles; her touch is sure
and gentle. I always wonder what would happen
if it landed on my clothes and caused a stain.

I wonder too what it is like
to stick and smile and wipe and stick
all day long. To smile and stick and wipe
and smile and stick again. How many times
can she ask the same question with a smile?

Are you allergic to iodine? Squeeze the ball every
five seconds. Do you feel faint? If this was me,
I would last a day, perhaps a week, and then I
would call in. I can’t, I would say, I can’t.
I can’t work here anymore. I just can’t.

Writer’s Digest prompt April 22, 2009
in honor of The Blood and Tissue Center of Central Texas

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to Ma.gnoliaAdd to TechnoratiAdd to FurlAdd to Newsvine


Tagged: , , , , , ,

§ 2 Responses to Lavender Gloves

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading Lavender Gloves at Flutter and Muse.


%d bloggers like this: