Can't Go, Won't Go (Poetry)

These days
                I cannot go to see the doctor
it’s not that I’m afraid to know
what’s wrong
my body talks to me and tells
its growing list of woes
and that’s a language
I’ve gradually understood — no
I just don’t want to see
that bored expression yawning —
a gulf too wide and tainted
with clinical apathy

And I do not want to hear that speech
the script so well-rehearsed
and trotted out mechanically
describing dot-to-dot procedures
the ailing flesh conveyor belt —
those same old trite responses to the question
that is pain ...
For when tests prove inconclusive
leave to stew awhile
then run it through the mill
again ...again ... again

There’s no cure for depression
it’s a side effect that kills
an undermining deep infection
passed on daily with the pills

So I won’t go to the doctor
when they don’t even pretend
they’re all that interested — except to cut
me open in the end