Waiting Room
by Rebecca Gomezrueda


They drop my bundle
into a basket
by the open window
I miss the weight of it
In my arms
The moment it's gone
The dead eyed men
Wrap their coats around themselves
tightly,so tightly
and stand up straight
I have no coat
When I walk down the hall
I'm offered seven
There's a lady behind a computer screen
Poking at brightly lit cubes
She doesn't turn when I call for her
I speak at her
because she won't listen
and I end with a question
She doesn't turn her head
But I hear her
"With all due respect sir
People die everyday."






Copyright © 2024 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.