Weekly Poem: ‘Things the Doctor Asks’

By Charles Hood

That is an interesting scar,
were you an especially clumsy child?

Count backwards from one hundred
in multiples of pi. Hold out both hands.

If you die, may we cremate you?
Why does my stethoscope transmit

a dim hum like a hive of bees?
Now get dressed. You mean

you are not dressed yet even
after all this time? Shut up

and stop counting. Open the door.
You will need Diamox, for the Pole.

You will need to shave those parts.
Do you know that you walk around

like a hut with legs?

Charles Hood is the author of “South x South” (Ohio University Press), winner of the 2012 Hollis Summers Poetry Prize. His previous books include “Bombing Ploesti” and “Rio de Dios” (Red Hen Press). He has been the recipient of a Fulbright fellowship, an Artist in Residency with the Center for Land Use Interpretation, and an Artists and Writers grant from the National Science Foundation. He teaches photography and writing at Antelope Valley College, Calif.