after three years go by / you appear on two slides / in a lecture / on motor neuron disease
The eye dilated in the physician’s dark exam room, / While into it the eyes of new white coats loom, / From this eye I am learning
Little girl / in the pink hospital gown / sits in a windowless room.
“No, no, no,” I repeated, first silently and then as a whisper, as I frantically pushed the elevator button. The reliable elevator chime did not ring, and the button light would not stay on. “Great. Fantastic,” I sarcastically muttered.
Hepatic failure claimed him mentally, / And colored yellow both his eyes so wide / As too his being stained corporally.
The many tables corral him, / All the people surround him, / A trained doctor he is not, / Giving up, he hasn’t thought.
First, do no harm, but to harm not I must first see / With swift breath, I begin. / You, silent teacher, my new textbook
My mind wakes up in the morning / Sweating with facts / Preparing / For the archeological dig.
And whenever I see you smile / There are significant changes in my cardiology, / I love you
Felt like war, those early years, / We fought a fight for all those years.
Is it just me? / Or does it seem / that my pride / will not let me be
I found them for you. / Your blonde little girls who grew into women / Then grew apart from you. / I found them.