Injection Day

Waiting in the allergist's office.

In the stuffy, crowded room

we wait for allergy shots:

conversation and laughter overlap,

whispers ride along the

rustled pages of magazines;

patients come and go.

I have signed in on yellow paper.

A holiday comes tomorrow,

the room is filled today.

Children slide from mother's laps,

then skim about like water bugs,

restless as the spring zephyrs.

Only the white wall clock is constant;

yet time drags.

Leather coats 

conform to vinyl chairs.

Doors cry in arcing sweeps,

then slap shut.

They clear metal throats

and cry again.

I hear my name.

Reviews

[Sasha]

Like your other poems, this has great imagery and is expressed very eloquently.
I loved the "They clear... and cry again." line in particular.