February 2026: A Point of Connection – Robyn Knibb
A Point of Connection
His white coat sets my teeth on edge, my heart racing.
‘Mrs Miller?’
I stand and grip the back of the seat for support.
‘No change. Still unconscious. Get yourself a coffee or something.’
Can I gather up some remaining shreds of strength and go through all this again? Why does my daughter keep doing this?
Not coffee. I know what I need. Distraction.
I speed through corridors and breathe easier when I reach the empty hallway with the flickering lighting. I’ve paced these floors too many times to mention.
I dredge up a poem. Walk as fast as I can, capturing the rhythm of it.
‘He sent the flint-stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,
He cleared the fallen timber in his stride…’
Year Five challenge: Learn ‘The Man from Snowy River’ off by heart. I’d nearly managed it. Banjo Paterson. AB. What did AB stand for? As I try and recall, the spell breaks and Rachel’s face, gaunt and pale, hovers before me.
Another poem. I tramp to the beat of clocks.
‘Two chronometers the captain had.
One by Arnold that ran like mad.’
By Senior, Kenneth Slessor’s ‘Five Visions of Captain Cook’ enthralled me.
Old blind Captain-in-the-Corner drinking his rum and gesturing to empty chairs.
Had I found Rachel too late?
I force myself to articulate my fears. Maybe she wouldn’t make it. We’d grieve, be forced to move on. Perhaps it would even be…
NO! My body convulses in an agonised sob. NO! Anything but losing her.
What did her note say? Can’t go through it all again.
Probably referring to the years and years of being dragged from doctors to shrinks to counsellors; the endless bouts of incarceration in psych units. Always emerging full of hope that this time… but then the latest casual job or boyfriend wouldn’t work out. Her weight would plummet as the anorexia behaviours of old kicked in.
What else did Kenneth Slessor write? Ah yes!
I recite ‘The Night Ride’ to the echoing corridor.
‘Gas flaring on the yellow platform; voices running up and down;
Milk-tins in cold dented silver…’
Tears spring to my eyes at the understated elegance.
I can’t stand it. I trudge back. An older woman is hunched over, silent tears spilling. I sit beside her and pat her arm. She grips my hand.
‘Do you believe in God?’ she asks.
‘Not sure. I used to.’ Before He let me down.
A white coat materialises, takes her arm, leads her to a more private corner.
It must be the news she most dreads because she slumps like a house of cards.
My own white coat appears.
‘Mrs Miller? Rachel should recover.’
I fish for a tissue.
‘There’ll be tests for heart or liver damage, but she’s conscious.’
Rachel and I need a point of connection. What about sharing my secret passion for poetry? I could start with Mary Oliver:
‘Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life…’
Robyn Knibb
Right Left Write’s February prompt was Poetry. New prompts are announced monthly February-November in QWC’s Pen & Pixel email newsletter.
Find out more about Right Left Write at www.queenslandwriters.org.au/rightleftwrite.
Right Left Write’s February prompt was Poetry.