Notes About The Poem
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BEHIND THE PRESCRIPTION COUNTER
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The fluorescent hum doesn’t bother her.
Neither does the line winding past aisle three,
the man who taps his foot like a metronome, nor
the mother bouncing a fussy child.
Her hands move gracefully~
meticulously counting pills into amber vials,
smoothing wrinkled labels,
turning each bottle just so
so the instructions face outward.
She knows Mrs. Putzer forgets her reading glasses.
She remembers Mr. Kim’s allergy to penicillin
even though he hasn’t mentioned it in years.
When the young man with trembling hands
asks, again, about his dosage,
she doesn’t glance at the clock.
She unfolds the leaflet slowly,
points to the bolded text,
says take your time
like she’s handing him a cup of water
after a long walk.
Some days, the world is a rumpled prescription,
filled with smudged ink,
but Mary is the angel in blue scrubs
behind the prescription counter
*You may this poem’s companion story here on Poetry Soup as follows:
poetrysoup.com/short_stories/an_angel_in_blue_scrubs_13589
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