On Performing Medicine
I feel like a child wearing his father’s coat / The starched, fabric seems like a costume
I feel like a child wearing his father’s coat / The starched, fabric seems like a costume
I first heard the click, click of her black stilettos / Her heels narrowed to a tiny point that seemed to pierce the ground. / I imagined the floor whimpering at every step she took / The faces of terrified tiles reflecting in glistening heels
What happened to his smile? / Minutes ago, he was beaming. / Now the patient’s face contorted as he yelled. / Fury filled every crevice and crack of his face.
Hunched over in your chair, / Guarding an abscess with apathy, / Your arm is swollen, angry, burning.
It never ends / That pain / Running through my back in a huff
I don’t look both ways when I cross the street / Sometimes I forget I’m alive / I take a step onto the road