Death Reel
The doctor motioned to sit, turned a chair / to face the monitor. A perfectly lovely office. / Natural light from the barren window / gathered in circles around my feet.
Tag: 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.
Medical Student Editor and Contributing Writer
UT Southwestern Medical School
Steven is a third-year medical student at UT Southwestern Medical School in Dallas, Texas (Class of 2022). In 2018, he graduated from Brigham Young University with a Bachelor of Science in microbiology and Russian. He enjoys eating curry, writing poetry, and hiking in his free time. In the future, he would like to pursue a career in primary care and global health.
Riddle
It does not grace your ears, / but you can hear it. / It does not touch your skin, / but you feel its pull. / It can’t be seen or read / but nonetheless, it guides you.
Your Body
Your body lay on the table, wrapped in shrouds / while robed students gathered around, / Your body lay on the table, skin leathery and strong, / I imagined what stories it bore, what paths it traveled along.
Impact of a Cadaver
Gloves first, then scalpel blades gathered, / instructor books and an atlas. / What yearning and churning my mind feels, / unsure what learning to expect.
first death
After hours of struggle, noise, / knife and clamp and lung flapping wetly / like a broken bird wing in an open chest, / there is this part, the dismantling.
first code
“We kept him alive to let his family say goodbye, / and sometimes that’s the biggest victory.”
Two Beds
Motionless, a man awakes from his stupor of heart. Relief from sharpness, the pooling and swelling.
The Streets of Sarajevo
Red blood flows, red lights flash, / Down the streets of Sarajevo. / I wonder which will win today: / Hermes’ staff or Ares’ spear?
Stomach
The burning taste / of acid in the throat / is a warning.
Sutures and Stones
Superficial to deep, deep to superficial, / 90 degrees, in and out, / Not too deep, filled with doubt.
A More Perfect Union
Who am I to say that I am an artist? / Itʼs the wanting / the need to express…
loser
You lose / your pen with / the red and blue and black ink
Contributing Writer
UC San Diego School of Medicine
Andrew is a fourth year medical student at University of California, San Diego SOM in La Jolla, CA, class of 2020. In 2013, he graduated from Dartmouth College with a Bachelor of Arts in history. He enjoys collecting vintage wristwatches and writing flash fiction. He is currently applying into emergency medicine.