Mayo Clinic

by Claire Scott

A hotel in Scottsdale, Arizona
Walking distance they said
We opened the door to
A hundred degree blast
We drove two blocks
To the Mayo Clinic
Met Dr. S. Crawford
Who seemed distracted
Forgot our names
Mumbled a vague plan
For the week ahead
She didn’t look like the God
He needed
I left him there, tubes and tests
MRI’s and sonograms
Endless beeping in the halls

That night
I called room service to see if God could
Stop by, say a prayer
For a son with curdled hope
Living on the black edge of a knife
For a mother pacing
Circles of terror
On the worn carpet
At Chaparral Suites
In Scottsdale, Arizona
Plagued by the betrayal
Of her perfect health
Which I would trade for
His in a heartbeat
Perhaps arrange it with God
When He stops by

I got a recording
room service closes at midnight
I opened the minibar
An avatar of God
An amnesty from grief
Scotch soothes
Like an answered prayer

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Claire Scott is an award winning poet who has been nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize (2013 and 2014). She was also a semi-finalist for both the 2014 Pangaea Prize and the 2014 Atlantis Award. Claire is the Grand Prize winner of the
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​White Pine Writing Contest for poetry. Her first book of poetry, Waiting to be Called, was recently published by IF SF Publishing.