On going to the Hong Kong Women’s Clinic for an STD test after you’ve found out your husband has been fucking prostitutes
- Aug 23, 2019
- 2 min read
by Christine Taylor
in damp back alleys in Thailand massage parlors in Japan smoky dance club basements in Wanchai
the nurse questions why you’re here flips through the forms you’ve completed ink smudged on one line
you explain what you know or don’t quite know pick at your cuticles
she shakes her head asks you what you did and when you reply, “I came here,” she huffs sucks her teeth fiercely scribbles notes in your file
the color in the room shifts sterile light glints off metal instruments antiseptic stings your nose it’s cold.
This is what it means to be undone: removing your panties behind a curtain that doesn’t quite cover spreading your legs under a scratchy paper towel bearing the thrust of speculum the swabbing
she double gloves the sharp snap of latex makes you jump her lips upturned she barely touches you like you’re dirty never looks at you as she tightens a thick rubber band around your arm slides the needle into your vein labels the vials with black marker.
The nurse collects all the samples says to call in 3 days motions her hand towards the door she exits the room before you have dressed
on the examination table confronted by your nakedness in the dim light the cellulite on your thighs ripples your skin is ashen you barely cast a shadow on the wall and while you know this shame is not yours still it clings because you should have known how didn’t you know?
When you leave here you board the tram to the ferry the ferry to the bus the bus to the bumpy uphill gravel path that leads to your secret flat in a faraway village tucked into a mountainside. You wonder if it’s far enough to erase the drops of blood staining your underwear.
Christine Taylor identifies as multiracial and is an English teacher and librarian residing in her hometown Plainfield, New Jersey. She is the EIC of Kissing Dynamite: A Journal of Poetry and the author of The Queen City (Broken Sleep Books, 2019) and Petal (Bone & Ink Press, 2020). Christine has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net, and her work appears in Glass, Turtle Island Responds, Rogue Agent, Haibun Today, and The Rumpus, among others. Right now, she’s probably covered in cat hair and drinking a martini. Visit her at www.christinetayloronline.com.
