Options Open

In the too-familiar room she'll wait,

listening for her name. And then they call.

A rote routine, a step upon the scale.

another room and then they walk away.

Behind the bar, the ugly gown unfurls,

She fumbles with the ties behind her back.



With chart in hand, the hurried nurse is back,

"Doctor's busy, vitals while we wait."

From tightened bun, a twist of hair unfurls.

A startled look, "I'll have to make a call."

Her eyes divert and as she walks away,

she glances at the wall . . . a charted scale.



The doctor now, "Let's bring this down to scale.

We thought we got it all but it's come back.

We'll need to send you somewhere far away.

But we may see improvement if we wait.

The treatment's still quite new, so it's your call.

Try, or simply see how this unfurls."



Around her now, reality unfurls.

How mountainous a choice, too high to scale.

From far away she hears her husband call.

The room, the sights, the sounds come rushing back.

"No", she whispers, "there's no need to wait."

The moment past, she feels time slip away.





They bring the gurney, carry her away.

Now, right or wrong, her path of choice unfurls.

There's nothing left for her to do but wait.

Fate holds her now, and gently rocks Her scale.

She's told the ones she loves she's coming back.

And knows at home they're waiting on her call.



Beneath the single light she hears them call.

The anesthesia's pulling her away.

In dreams she feels her strength is coming back.

On left and right a leathery wing unfurls

and she is armored in reptilian scale.

She perches on the mountaintop to wait.



She feels a pull to fly, a pull to wait.

Beyond beyond: a barely noticed scale.

From long ago a lullaby unfurls.