There is pain on her face. / I’m walking on the busy sidewalk, / I don’t know her.
Open. / Open abdomens. / Idealized organs from Netter’s in the flesh. / Vibrant colors and varied textures independent of race, religion, or creed.
Soon, / There / Will be / A true cure.
I have stood on both sides of the line— / The line between mother and medic; / The line between parent and practitioner.
time, / its lifespan ceases to exist / as the gold warmth of your hazel eyes surround me
Was it a fall? Did I miss the last step? These things I cannot recall / Hidden from sight, the blood crept from one lone vessel and began to compress / Nice to meet you, one medical student said, as he unzipped my sheath
after three years go by / you appear on two slides / in a lecture / on motor neuron disease
Little girl / in the pink hospital gown / sits in a windowless room.
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.
Felt like war, those early years, / We fought a fight for all those years.