by Laura Toland
You lie naked, supine,
exposed.
You consented to be so,
used for your body,
used by people who don’t even
know your name,
but was this what
you had imagined?
Surrounded by the dispassionateness of
note taking and diagram labeling,
there is no respect;
no thanks.
And it seems cruel,
somehow,
that no one thought to remove
the nail polish crowning
your curled grey fingers,
chipped
and pink.