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	<title>Zócalo Public SquareBlue Sky MRI &#8211; Zócalo Public Square</title>
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		<title>Blue Sky MRI</title>
		<link>https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org/2021/12/17/julie-morrissy/chronicles/poetry/</link>
		<comments>https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org/2021/12/17/julie-morrissy/chronicles/poetry/#respond</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 17 Dec 2021 08:01:36 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>by Julie Morrissy</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Friday Poem]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poet]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org/?p=124064</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>they leave me in a lino-cubicle<br /> another bargain blue basket<br /> for my bra and jeans<br /> I pace behind the curtain<br /> let the liquid settle the doctor tells me to take off my coat<br /> I need a canula and we are<br /> ten minutes behind schedule<br /> he says I can’t go to the bathroom and I feel<br /> like I’m in school again<br /> when a nurse notices me shivering<br /> I put my coat back on<br /> the doctor inserts the needle<br /> <i>little pinch</i><br /> takes it out         unused<br /> forty minutes later<br /> when they realise I am allergic<br /> to the contrast there have been other blue baskets this year<br /> at the breast clinic<br /> other days when I shivered in a gown<br /> with smiling women<br /> tea and biscuits<br /> accordion curtains dancing in the stillness<br /> of another disease detection unit<br /> breasts &#8230;</p>
<p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org/2021/12/17/julie-morrissy/chronicles/poetry/">Blue Sky MRI</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org">Zócalo Public Square</a>.</p>
]]></description>
				<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p class="p1">they leave me in a lino-cubicle<br />
another bargain blue basket<br />
for my bra and jeans<br />
I pace behind the curtain<br />
let the liquid settle</p>
<p class="p1">the doctor tells me to take off my coat<br />
I need a canula and we are<br />
ten minutes behind schedule<br />
he says I can’t go to the bathroom and I feel<br />
like I’m in school again<br />
when a nurse notices me shivering<br />
I put my coat back on<br />
the doctor inserts the needle<br />
<i>little pinch</i><br />
takes it out         unused<br />
forty minutes later<br />
when they realise I am allergic<br />
to the contrast</p>
<p class="p1">there have been other blue baskets this year<br />
at the breast clinic<br />
other days when I shivered in a gown<br />
with smiling women<br />
tea and biscuits<br />
accordion curtains dancing in the stillness<br />
of another disease detection unit<br />
breasts and torso squeezed and flattened<br />
<em>little pinch</em><br />
and you’re back on the street</p>
<p class="p1">they say I’ll hear instructions in the tube<br />
through the headphones<br />
<em>please breathe in</em><br />
there’s a blue sky painted on the ceiling<br />
and the room feels calming until<br />
<em>please breathe out</em><br />
you realise<br />
<em>please breathe in and hold your breath</em><br />
you can’t see the ceiling from inside the tunnel</p>
<p class="p1">I jerk-slide in increments<br />
reminded on each movement<br />
<em>     please resume breathing</em><br />
<em>     please breathe in and hold your breath</em></p>
<p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org/2021/12/17/julie-morrissy/chronicles/poetry/">Blue Sky MRI</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="https://legacy.zocalopublicsquare.org">Zócalo Public Square</a>.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
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