In The ER

Dull emergency room lights flicker
While the anxious flip through magazines
There’s distant clamor from the nurses’ station
And I smell their rubbing alcohol and latex

None jump at the occasional child’s cry
Nor do eyes change focus when names are called
Only when doctors pass are heads raised
For each of us hopes to be informed

I sit on my uncomfortable, plastic chair
Restless, I fiddle with an old candy wrapper
And when the nurse in blue approaches me
I stand to hear the news but she says to sit

Her voice is remorseful and face filled with sorrow
She removes her gloves and pauses a moment
Then she continues talking, “I’m sorry for your loss”
She leaves upon seeing an ambulance in the window

I find my mind playing the tragic scene on repeat
I walk into the bathroom where my friend lies
Empty prescription bottles are scattered on the floor
Along with a short and illegible, handwritten letter

As I step closer I notice red drip circling her wrists
I listen carefully and make out faint breathing
I dart out the door in search of the phone
I grab it off the stand, and trembling hands dial 911

An ambulance arrives after a few long minutes
Two muscular men lift her onto a white stretcher
They wheel it up the ramp and into the vehicle
I get in too and we ride to the hospital, lights flashing

At our arrival I’m instantly pushed into the waiting room
It’s filled with agitated people staring at magazine covers
And frantic conversation coming from the nurse’s station
I hang my head as the dim lights flash through the night