The
Sharp End
The
approach was calm and efficient,
from
car park to waiting department,
the
checking process muffled by masks,
the
only barrier to questions she asks.
His
voice was quiet and reassuring,
concerns
over allergy history, preparing,
a gentle
guide to the area clinical,
waiting
in the sparse treatment cubicle.
Which
arm? The masked operative demanded,
the
nearest limb was the right-handed,
the
skin was duly wiped and dried,
with
alcohol I’d prefer to have imbibed.
Then
to the moment much anticipated,
to some
causing nerves to be greatly agitated,
a
glance revealed a substantial needle,
an
operative wielding with expression gleeful.
Bundled
away to await the reaction,
fifteen
minutes to reveal an affliction,
then
to arrange a second acceptance,
of
this required anti-Covid performance.
© David L Atkinson January 2021
God Bless
