I’m wearing a lavender gown
and holding up the waist of
my Carhartts with both hands
like I’m in a potato sack race — we have to stop meeting like this 

The same nurse as last time
greets the scrambled output  
of my EKG reading with a too-long silence:

Odd
I’ve never seen it do this before 

The gap between 
thunder and lightning—I count
the seconds, and she gets the doctor 

Who asks gently,

What are you most afraid 
this might be, so we 
can pay the closest attention

And I answer, my heart.

Have you heard any good news, lately? 
Mine came right before this appointment 
and this poem; I was eating Taco Bell
in the car during a rainstorm 
and a wish of mine was granted 

Mostly, it felt good 
to want something

Rhienna Renée Guedry (she/they) is a writer, illustrator, and producer whose favorite geographic locations all have something to do with their proximity to water. Her writing has appeared in Muzzle, Gigantic Sequins, Maudlin House, Empty Mirror, HAD, and elsewhere. Her debut chapbook is due out in 2023. Find out more about her projects at rhienna.com or @cajunsparkle_ on Twitter.