White Coats Poem by Scott J. Shepard
White Coats
We question ourselves to be
mad libs while a double blind study
fills our mouths with
blanks.
I'm in need of a verb to make
sense, the illogical.
What feels like charades?
I'm writing a census and am
now an intimate feature burrowed
in the qualm.
A paradox to the misgiving.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: science
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4/28/2024 4:06:40 PM # 1.0.0.1119
