A Touch of Kindness
In the operating room, a man immediately recognized and greeted me / Even though I wore a surgical mask. / His welcoming expression was familiar to me, but I couldn’t pinpoint how I knew him.
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
University of Virginia School of Medicine
April is a member of the Class of 2020 at the University of Virginia School of Medicine in Charlottesville, Virginia. She graduated from the University of Virginia with Bachelor of Arts in human biology. In her free time, she enjoys hiking, eating tacos, and cheering on UVA sports teams. In the future, she would like to pursue a residency in physical medicine and rehabilitation.
Nose
I take a deep breath / to calm myself / before walking into the storm / of OR shadowing.
Daydream
On the other side there is a home, / With green grass, red rosebushes, and a pool where sharks swim in the deep end.
To the Girl with the Golden Heart Earrings
There lives a city only with pairs permitting. / Two lungs move together with love in the air / she takes his breath away when they’re a pair.
Is This Man or Is This Flesh?
Is this man or is this flesh / That implores my expertise? / Is it meat or is it human / When we meet, which do I see?
Hanging On
The scent of illness, stifling and spoiled / Masked by antiseptics.
The Eternal: The Untouchable
What an endeavor it is: / To reach out and touch humanity.
Operational
Blood flakes / fall onto the /blue, sterile field from / crimson-smeared green / light grips.
Starved
She suffers from bouts of amenorrhea. / She masticates as often as the day is black.
Spring
The year turns four. / April weeps: the vootery / Of a heart too weak / To hold the stifling tears until December.
Afterthoughts on Palliative Care
His breaths are heavy when we walk in. / Abdomen distended: / a large, perfect half-sphere…
There Is No Sound
There is no sound / like that of a heart breaking.
Contributing Writer
University of Rochester School of Medicine
Jennifer is a fourth year medical student at University of Rochester School of Medicine and Dentistry in Rochester, NY. She graduated from University of Washington with a Bachelor of Arts in anthropology and biochemistry. She enjoys hiking, writing, and traveling in her free time. After graduating medical school, Jennifer will pursue a career in emergency medicine.