Maggie slips out of the hospital gown,
pulls on her silk blouse and skirt,
and backs out of the frigid room
with its antiseptic smells and tiled floors;
her heels click past the ER front desk,
and she inhales the scent of coming rain
as the exit doors open with a swoosh;
she wipes trails of mascara
from beneath red-rimmed eyes,
gets into the driver’s side of her car,
puts it in reverse, and takes the roads—
back to the hotel
back to the charity fund-raiser
back to her boss with the debonair smile
she sidesteps his arm—melts into the crowd,
hobnobs with the giggling, glitter-bright donors,
is never alone,
is never pulled into a room,
is never a gazelle before a lion;
she is safe and blissfully unbroken.
