WINTER 2016 ISSUE
I have often wondered why there is a mirror in the room, directly across from the chair. The same chair where the nurse takes my blood pressure and asks if there are any new symptoms s...
—for Oscar Dwight Hewitt (1944-1963)
When he was here,...
I found out I was pregnant early during my third year of medical school. This news wasn’t unexpected, but I knew enough to recognize you can ne...
With every approaching storm,
the media drones like a plane overhead,
littering the airwaves with detailed promises
of what one needs to survive.
An obedient citizen,
I store batteries and bottled wate...
He had real clothes on for just two hours when
The medics cut him back open to try to
Make him breathe
Then they threw sterile packs
Like medicated snow all over
Pine floors so that when we came home
The lack of visits allowed me
to push away cancer
like starving children
in foreign countries.
The minutes were sucked
into ghost walls.
Through the tiny glass
window we saw the pale pate
shine under abr...
This skull had a tongue in it, and
“When a man journeys into a far country, he must be prepared to forget many of the things he has learned, and to acquire such customs as are inherent with existence in the new land; he must ab...
From the symptoms now my visitors,
the malady now my nurse.
The sickrooms that are her breasts,
the hospice that is her heart.
From the pills my straightjacket,
and the tourniquet now my jewels.
We tell my niece the scar
from her left hip to the soft frown
of her right rib cage is a shark bite,
as if tumor removal is scoffworthy,
as if a shark’s jaw is the shape
of a forsaken jumprope.
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