o doctor

my child     is still sick

& I was applying     my defenses

before we reached     your office

dressing     in my blackest

daubing thunderheads     around my eyes

dousing myself     in Morrigan

scent of Celtic     war & death

war if I must     with you

against     my child’s death

I knew     you

when your nurse     called 

said the lab results     were negative

only in math     & medicine

do we call negative     positive

negative      meaning

you don’t     have time

to explain    why the numbers

are not     normal 

but my child is     still sick

so we come     for answers

you meet us     sullen

under your white     coat 

two-tone     cowboy boots

you say     little

but your boots    speak

of white men     free & easy     

with their lassoes     & guns     

you     don’t smile

you don’t look     me

in the     eye

but my child is still     sick

so I make you run     the tests

never tell you     I had your job

but your system     made me quit     

now I’ve kicked     your door in

I’ll clamor until     you admit this     

doesn’t     add up

because     my child

is     still     sick

---

MORROW DOWDLE is the author of the micro-chapbook Hardly (Bottlecap Press, 2024) and has work forthcoming from New York Quarterly, RATTLE, ONE ART, and I-70 Review.  They have been nominated for the Pushcart and Best of the Net, and were a finalist for the 2024 Red Wheelbarrow Poetry Prize. They run a performance series which features BIPOC and LGBTQIA+ voices and are an MFA candidate at Pacific University.

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