Interview with my sonographer

How much water did you have to drink this morning?
Did you sip your coffee without worrying
about its diuretic properties? Was it sunny
where you were?
I took your advice about the elasticated waistband,
the full bladder, but did you know we can all hear your voice
in the waiting room, through the door?
What does secrecy mean to you?
When you think about feeling nervous, do you remember
your Grade 4 oboe exam or the time you were alone,
walking down a silent cut-through near midnight?
What’s the worst scan you’ve ever done?
Do you remember the man’s face?
Can you see a shadow as you get closer? Hear gravel
under heavy soles? Smell the musty lanoline of your scarf, pressed
against your mouth?
Should it hurt this much?
Do you ever get bored talking about the weather or wish for snow
or make up stories like that time you skipped school and got caught
with one of the older boys in the park,
your straps slipping down, your skirt riding up?
Were you good at stories and do you have a good imagination and does it help
in your line of work? Some people see faces
in inanimate objects – plug sockets, maps, clouds.
Some people have bad imaginations
but call it boundaries, work.
Do you ever wish you’d been a meteorologist? A zoologist?
They’re all just bodies, after all.
Does it always take this long?
What’s your biggest regret?
If you had to choose between a uterus and a kidney, which would you keep?
Is that it?
Can I breathe out now?
What’s your favourite way to give bad news?

Amy Dugmore is a poet and copywriter from Birmingham, UK. Her poems have appeared in The North, Poetry Wales, Propel and Atrium, among others. You can find her on Bluesky @aldugmore.bsky.social