Those voluble cells which
lay softly atop the glass slide
compose the truth, compose the
cabalistic dialect of you and I
as the sequined stars compose
the entropic evening sky.
Stained pretty in pink and blue,
This malignancy is as pregnant
as a pause with secrets: Tangling
tau within gossamer threads of memory, breeding
butterfly gliomas within brain parenchyma, stirring
fresh, hopeful roots
with rosetting rain.
There is something cautious, yet bold
about living in a vessel as intensely fragile
as the hands of mist:
A brave thing, isn’t it?
To dare to love
What science has kissed?
Poetry Thursdays is an initiative that highlights poems by medical students. If you are interested in contributing or would like to learn more, please contact our editors.