Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter
Cortney Davis
Spring
Thirty weeks,
and the baby’s not moving.
I listen to deep silence.
Then, the pregnant belly wakes.
From beneath the mountain,
thunder singing.
Summer
The final day of OB rotation
the medical student has a choice–
see the last patient of the day
or run to the coffee shop for a milkshake?
Milkshake wins!
What will I say when they ask me
was he dedicated?
Fall
“Why did you do this? Why did you order that?”
Full of indignation, the chief resident
attacks me
like the attending doctors
stormed at her only this morning.
Winter
There, on her cervix, a red spot
like