Thoughts in an MRI Scanner

I’m in a tube that clicks,
repeatedly.
I cannot and must not move.
That’s obligatory
My body lies defenceless,
horizontally.
I tell myself the time will pass,
hypnotically.
My tissues are being dissected,
magnetically.
They watch me through Perspex,
Unconcernedly.
I will be told what’s wrong.
Eventually.

(C) Michael Davidson, 200?