Writing from the stemistry lab
Consent form
by Catherine Graham
The smell of the consent form,
the scent of permission.
Your taste is tied to my tongue
like the words I dare not speak.
Alone in the laboratory,
I read and re-read you,
running my finger across your dotted line
as if blinded by this madness.
Consent form, you are the habit
I cannot break. I hold you,
fold you, file you away
like a top-drawer secret.