Exposure

Exposure

They asked for a cut of my vest-strap, took
the underwear pooled around my ankles
with gloved hands, stinking of antiseptic
and disinfectant. They wanted my jeans,
left my knees clattering cold and white
like chattering teeth as I took the swamp
of grey jumper, pulled it over my damp head
and erased the valley of my waist, the swell
of the breasts he had mauled less than a sunrise
ago. Shoes scuffing on linoleum, I shuffled
from the clinic in loose-fitting jogging bottoms,
drowning in the drab clothing of a victim,
the last shards of me gathered in a clear bag.

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