Rachel Hadas
Lying in bed and waiting for the purple
bruises to fade from my arms,
I remember the grinding pebbles underfoot
when I gave in to the muscular embrace of the ocean.
Now I rest in the wash of what has been accomplished.
A shallow golden river is pouring
1. Mom spends all her time saying thank you.
Casseroles
whole dinners
arrive at the door,
notes
phone calls
assurances of prayer
and being there
if something is needed,
offers to pick up the children
the laundry
tidy the house
run errands.
Cheryl Lewis
Knotted seams gather scrubbed skin
and titanium plumbs a heart–
guide wires routing an improvised pulse
and tracing an erratic existence.
In the beginning doctors said
genetic mistake, detrimental
mutation, one in 10,000
statistically speaking. God’s will.
At night we wrestle with angels.
Celestial static, incandescent
blue
Tammy Hansen Snell
She sat on the curb in her hospital gown
pretending not to see me coming.
The tube from her hand to the IV pole in the street
lifted the flimsy sleeve of her robe.
Cars went by, and we both watched them
as if we cared what
Kendall Madden
It’s a desert in here–
the way they suck
the air from one
compartment to another.
I’m parched–
forgotten rain,
blanched mollusk
without the sea.
My stiff face
tries to smile
at a wilted patient.
Pink-tongued lilies
once in a while
overcome the disinfectant,
Linda Evans
She lives in a small cell
on the Maximum Security Unit
pregnant with her tenth love child
the other nine scatteredÂ
like dried leaves in the wind.Â
Beneath the baggy government-issued jumpsuitÂ
her belly swells and shifts with the weight of life
a heaviness of never hearing first
Andrea Gordon
She was a rainbows and unicorns girl,
predictable passions at appropriate ages.
Shy smile and just-above-average grades.
Yearly visits by the book, or, in this case,
computer screen prompts.
Milestones noted, talk about diet,
ceremonial exam, note straightness of spine.
All on track, along the mapped
Wynne MorrisonÂ
Tears should be surprising.
He is, after all, well over six feet tall,
must top 250 pounds,
always quick and confident
with a joke upon his lips.
Most of his patients weigh a pound or two.
Eyes fused shut, translucent skin,
with lives of needles, tubes,
machines
Richard Weiss
He waited, sandwiched between an angular
housewife with a cough and an accountant
whose clothing draped his skeletal frame.
When we first met he was much younger,
bearded, heavily tattooed, dressed in black,
his bulk dwarfing my consultation room,
a school custodian recovering after a painful
divorce
Bernadine Han
We were both new that day.
He had come for a new knee.
I was doing my first admission.
Suddenly he was short of breath.
He’d had a cough for a long time, yes,
with blood in it.
He decompensated,
and I watched him.
Brian T. Maurer
Ply the scalpel, crack the vault;
Peel back the layers, parcel the salt:
Galeal, subgaleal, arachnoid place,
Dura mater, subdural space,
Lobus frontalis, sulcus centralis,
Corpus callosum, fornix, and rostrum,
Hippocampus, choroid plexus,
(Anatomy most sure to vex
Ellen Diamond
And while the stuff drips in, I’m rolling over
in my mind the two words: Kemo Sabe.
It’s the name that Tonto called his friend
the Lone Ranger, back in radio days.
I could use a trusty sidekick now,
crouched
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