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.
Audrey Lyu is a first year medical student at Rush Medical College in Chicago, IL. She graduated from the University of Maryland, College Park in 2023 with a degree in Neuroscience. You would find her making art or playing with her bunny in her free time. Audrey hopes to pursue a career in psychiatry.
wake up, orange sunshine fills my eyes. feed my bunny, sweet smell of coriander. i miss home. change into scrubs, head for the bus. i wonder what my sister is doing right now. it’s cold here, i text my lover. walk to class, today we dissect. grandma is dying. open the abdominal cavity. peel back the layers of fascia. i miss my parents. listen to my professors. peristalsis, achalasia, portal vein. this is what i …
when i die, donate my body to science. for perhaps i may be dissected, by childlike hands and fresh minds, whose shoes I once stood in. open my body, peel back the layers of fascia and adipose, swallowed with that in which I lived for. when they open my abdominal cavity, may they learn my favorite foods, the myeokguk i ate every birthday, and my love for candies, that painted my stomach red. and in …
Septic shock. Liver failure. Kidney cancer.
This was my patient. I sat with her, held her hand, coaxed her to share pieces of her life story from underneath the covers.
A spoken word piece dedicated to the generous donors and their families of the Donor Body Program at the UCLA David Geffen School of Medicine.
Waiting in the snow for the 43, / Mind focused on the cold. / The bitter wind, the bus kneeling
My patient sleeps peacefully. / I wake him guiltily. / I don’t want my face to be the first he sees.
I am moving, yet I am going nowhere. I am going nowhere, yet I have come a long way. I do not count how many go by, but each spin demands that I keep moving. With every rotation, I take another step, another leap, one jump on this Earth. These cycles fly by, so much so that I can almost hear them as they whoosh over my head in an instant, making seconds go slow.
A bag full of dreams was all my mind possessed, / To leave my mark on the turbulent sands of time and be respected,
Finally, it’s been three months since // He and I were strangers with bad blood, / breathless in bed, / discussing the acts of giving and / receiving as indulgences, / mulling over our motivations and / the contraindications for / charity.
I start the day like most of us do: stimulating the needy vessels we call bodies with caffeine. As I open up my coffee jar to dispense ground Turkish coffee beans, I am met with a hint of loving bitterness. It carries a comforting brown sugar warmth that often stirs a sense of weakness given my inherent dependency on this substance but also commands secure boldness through notes of molasses and dark chocolate.
this weekend / I went to the sunflower patch / swinging arms with my mom and sister / starry eyed at the fields of bright gold yellow / nestled in the blue of the mountains around us.
Writers-in-Training Intern and Contributing Writer
Lake Erie College of Osteopathic Medicine
Nima is a medical student at Lake Erie College of Osteopathic Medicine in Bradenton, Florida, Class of 2024. In 2019, she graduated from Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University with a Bachelor of Science in neuroscience and biology, with minors in creative writing and medicine and society. Nima enjoys gardening, cooking, and painting in her free time. After graduating medical school, Nima would like to pursue a career in family medicine with a focus on community health and lifestyle medicine.
