I float in an ocean of sterile cerulean. / In this deep of drapery and gowns, / One could swim out and never see the shore.
I am waiting for my coffee when / a middle-aged Turkish man / asks if I am a medical student —
5:37 a.m. in hospital scrubs /
Just a few minutes with each patient.
They say you’re at the top of the class / I say I’m barely able to pass
One thing bothers me: / Books are most of what we see. / Doctor-patient relationship — / Only mentioned in them, flip by flip.
Just a glance of you was enough; / Rapid serotonin surge giving me great triumph. / Did my heart just skip a beat? / Giving me a premature contractile treat.
I know better. / I know nothing, and I am useless. / So don’t throw words at me insinuating that / I am knowledgeable.
If there is an accident / And you find me / Don’t leave me / But hold my hand / Because I am scared
Time for empathy. / Time for empathy? / Collect a complete psychiatric history. / Plus, medical history with dates of diagnosis and current medications.
My heart is not a lacy valentine. / It is an anatomic pump / Engineered evolution / Strong walls of long runs
Discarded plastic suffocates a distraught sea creature, / innocent plight recorded by faceless figures for apathetic amusement.
I dreamed of you when I was young / Open wide, stick out your tongue / A degree instead of a strong, young man . A future with stethoscopes was my plan