The waves beat; / a cold, relentless torrent. / You stand against them / taking the impact
Humor… / it’s what saves me / keeps me from dying inside
Lunch hour on a Thursday
in the skies above
Medical alert, paged — STAT to Bed 3 / The nurse comes a runnin’ — we need an MD!
A haiku about screening for colon cancer.
When do-sed dram or weigh-ted dusts / no remedy impart
How do you enjoy that / Which will be gone — sooner than someday?
“Compassion” / A pale moon hangs above / The workroom clock reads six, but / Is it day or night?
His mother asks whether or not there will be a scar. I tell her yes. We’ll do our best to make it small, but there will be a scar.
Easter Sunday, intern year / MICU long-call consult resident / 41-year-old female
Shrouded in a plastic blanket / Raising the temperature of your / Frail limbs and famished core
Come one, come all, to the emergency room / It’s one a.m., and the rashes are in bloom