What Science Can Kiss
Those voluble cells which / lay softly atop the glass slide / compose the truth, compose the / cabalistic dialect of you and I
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
Emory University School of Medicine
John is a third-year medical student at Emory University School of Medicine in Atlanta, GA class of 2022. In 2017, he graduated from the University of Georgia with a Bachelor of Science in microbiology. He enjoys playing soccer, going on runs around town, and reading/writing poems in his free time. After graduating medical school, John would like to pursue a career in either neuropathology or emergency medicine.
Comedic Relief
A courteous knock on the door / Followed by a confident entry / Quickly halted by an urgent cry
To My First Patient Who Passed
Yours is the name I carry on / You were the first I mourned when gone
DNR
20 / still / except / her chest rising, falling
“Behind”: A Poetic Reflection of the Beginnings of M1
The clock behind me ticks / As the seconds line up with the cicadas’ hiss, / I hear the children outside, and the cracks of sticks
It’s Okay To Say Goodbye
As the door swings open, it hits the chair that was shifted more than usual. / Next to the computer sits a 94-year-old woman in a wheelchair / who is here for one last visit.
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.
Welcome to in-Training, the online peer-reviewed publication for medical students. Please contact us at editorinchief@in-training.org with any questions or concerns.
