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
###
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
White Pine Writing Contest for poetry. Her first book of poetry, Waiting to be Called, was recently published by IF SF Publishing.
