It’s Okay To Say Goodbye
As we leave the room, I linger on the “nice to have met you” exchange and / her last interaction with us. / An interaction I’d never forget.
Poetry Thursdays
Poetry Thursdays is our initiative to highlight poetry and prose by medical students, with a new post every Thursday. If you are interested in contributing or would like to learn more, please contact our editors.
Contributing Writer
Florida State University College of Medicine
Kiah is a fourth-year medical student at Florida State University College of Medicine in Tallahassee, FL Class of 2022. In 2018, she graduated magna cum laude from Florida State University with a Bachelor of Science in biological science with a minor in chemistry. She enjoys painting, writing, and reading fantasy novels in her free time. Kiah plans to pursue a career in ophthalmology.
It’s all in the mind.
I’m 19, I was caught trespassing. / They said I was acting “unusual.” / No reason really.
Life.
A seedling, a baby – / the most vulnerable state. / Roots, placenta ground into mother – / wholly dependent on a magnificent caretaker.
Ms. Metaphysics
I am sitting in school / but I am also thinking of you. / Yes, I do / wonder how consciousness / wraps round and round / this hunk of meat, / how chunks of flesh / sustain your metaphysical feat.
Weather This Weather
if we can just cling / and weather this weather, / we can make some things / much better and better.
A Blue-Lit Room
In a hospital room lit blue / By the rays entering in from the clouded sun
COVID Burnout
I’m not the first to think / under my breath, even out loud: / To test positive for Covid. / Even after this morning.
An Ode to Paul Hoover
Secret / The caterpillar munching on hair / beneath your scrub cap
2020
Some days, I only feel disillusion of the soul / that yearns for bear hugs, game nights, Nana’s pecan pie.
‘Twas the Block Before Step
‘Twas the block before Step, and all through the school / not a student was stirring — no one was a fool
Attack of the Meconium
5:00 am, the first day on the night shift, / six deliveries completed and only one hour remains. / A call from the nurse says the patient in 14 is five centimeters dilated, / and so we enter the room to rupture her membranes.
Centimeters
The clock strikes midnight and just like that, / she’s been laboring for 10 hours as expected, / time flies when you can’t feel contraction pain.
Former Managing Editor and Contributing Writer
University of South Florida Morsani College of Medicine
Currently, Brian is a fourth-year medical student at the University of South Florida Morsani College of Medicine. He was born in Westchester County, NY, and moved to Laguna Beach, CA in 2007. He graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Pharmacology and a Bachelor of Science in Biopsychology from the University of California, Santa Barbara in 2017. Brian is planning on becoming an OB/GYN and is currently interested in Surgical Oncology. Outside of the classroom, Brian enjoys playing racquetball, reading on personal finance and nutrition, and enjoying outdoor activities at the beach and hiking.