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Writer's pictureTin Can Poetry

Dr Tate By Alice Foxall

After three months of waiting and dreaming

For a booking at hotel NHS

I finally hear the words I’ve been longing for

‘Alice, the Doctor will see you now’


“My name’s Dr Tate

But you can call me Andrew


Drop your pants and spread your legs”


And I must surrender to his demands

Take him on the journey of my insides

To my left you’ll find a scarp of wool from the last tampon I shoved up too hard

On your right you’ll find a UTI brewing I’ll ignore for weeks until I get my dizzy spells

And dead ahead…

Are the scars I can’t talk about


And he’s swinging his speculum

Like he has something to prove

And I’m tensing my legs

Like I have something to hide

And I want so badly to shut him out


But HE is everywhere

On the screens on the street in my mind


But if I let him deep inside

Touch the sacred marks that lie dead ahead

Well maybe that

Will be enough to bring a man to his knees.

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