By Maria Scala

Two hours in the waiting room
and two in this room
they come and go
asking the same questions --
your pulse is a little bit fast
are you anxious?
I answer the way you taught me
inevitably, a brow is raised
something marked down
on my chart.

You distract me
with stories of Nonna --
people got old so early
in those days
not like now
women starting in their thirties
but maybe it's better
you're all so prepared
I was a kid myself
when I had your brother.

I doubt that and tell you so
my stomach growls
and you offer me a cookie
from your purse
the baby needs it
these fools
will keep you waiting
all night.

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