Bloom

Poetry | Rachel Tanner

Life stands still most days. I call my

health insurance company. Stay

on hold for 3 hours. Argue

with a lady named Meg

about my deductible.

The pharmacy's phone is 

answered by a robot now. I know

that it's just a recording, but it still

sounds like it hates me.

I waited for diagnosis. I waited

for proper treatment. I am waiting 

for symptom relief. So much of me

is made up of waiting. So much of me

can't heal for all the red tape

in the way.

The hold music at my urogynecologist's

office is a crackling contemporary Christian song

that plays too loudly. I think it's supposed to

be calming. I think I am supposed

to worship while I wait, so I try this:

I worship the little intricacies of life,

the ways we all intersect even at our worst.

The ways bodies fit together

even if one of the bodies isn't mine.

The way we all take empty air

and bloom everything to life.