Today’s choice

Previous poems

Marnie Cockrill

 

 

 

Clerking notes

So, what has brought you in today Mrs…?
Owens. Mrs Owens.

Ahh, nice to meet you Mrs Owens. What brings you in today?
Worry mostly, I worry, I’m a worrier. But I’m particularly worried about this.

Worry not, Mrs Owens. Is your worry irrational or rational, do you believe?
Well, I don’t know, irrational, I hope. But it is just so constant…

Supposing it is constant, how would you characterise it? When did it start?
It started a few days ago, it came with this grumbling pain, I don’t know why…

I know it’s frightening, I’m sorry. The worry, anything makes it better or worse?
Well, I’ve been taking some paracetamol. That helps a little, but the nights are the worst.

What do you worry about at night? Has anything like this happened before?
Yes, for many years now on and off but it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

If it has been ignored before, why can’t it be ignored now? What is different?
I don’t know, Doc. It’s just frighteningly painful and I can’t get it to stop. I did wonder…

I fear we must stop getting side tracked. What is your specific concern?
Well, I wondered if perhaps something had ruptured or burst. Might I be bleeding inside?

Now, now Mrs Owens. If that were the case, I’m sure you would be in significant pain.
Wouldn’t you agree that this pain is not what is significant to you, Mrs Owens?

 

 

Marnie Cockrill is a poet and artist from north Wales, studying medicine at Exeter. This professional pursuit, combined with her delight in the natural world and fascination with human relationships informs much of her writing.

Jason Lovell

While children kneel at your cage in awe
edge offerings of cashew nuts, chopped fruit,
curse words into your magnificent beak,
mums settle carrier bags at tired wet feet

Elijah MacBean

      My Name is My Name Ami never let anyone call my sister Sam – it always had to be Samina. She said she’d rather be waterboarded than let her daughter be whitewashed by whites too conservative to spare the extra syllables. Ami never let anyone call...

Damen O’Brien

The coastline’s smile is sharp with blackened teeth,
seabird shelters, scarps, cutaways, broken reefs:
the bloody mouth of a boxer who can’t be dropped,
punch drunk with the brain’s purple pounding . . .

Viv Fogel

At the End of the Class
The young woman in a hijab thanked/praised/appreciated me
For all I had shown/ encouraged/ inspired in her
Asked whether I observed/ took part in/ celebrated Rosh Hashanah?