Use latex gloves. Use a scalpel. Brain slices up like Jell-O. Use tweezers to grab the hair-like strand of cranial nerve VII on the ventral brain stem. Nerve VII controls facial expression, such as your furrowed brow yesterday when the honey-haired boy ended with “but I really enjoy spending time with you.” Use ventilated rooms …
Hallway Disclosures Doorknob Disclosures Oh, oh, Ah, oh, oh, …
Continue reading “[INFLAMMATORY STATEMENT OF SELF DISCLOSURE IN THE OUTPATIENT PSYCHIATRY CLINIC]”
“My heart is crying blood for my city and my people” Seventy-six years and three passports later… Here I am, watching the unthinkable unfold before me, So far, yet so close We took an eastward turn, The opposite direction would come to see Mothers preoccupied not by nesting And adorning a nursery for new life …
Scrub, wash, and cleanse of all impurities Before disturbing the sacred chamber. Enter, don the vestment. Put them at ease on the table, waiting for their slumber. So started ritual interventions. Prepared, faithful clergy gathers around, Laity waits, with hopeful intentions. Vulnerability and trust abound. Sanctified, the sacrament has begun. Here in this intimate, blessed …
Sunday “He has metastatic cancer” “He doesn’t have long” That doesn’t make sense I saw him 2 months ago He didn’t look sick I can’t sleep Monday The lecture is on cancer spread Was his hematologic? lymphatic? I unsuspend anki cards it doesn’t matter His cancer is everywhere I wipe away tears Tuesday Chemo drugs …
She waited, years on years, A thousand names on the transplant list, Her body, a fragile thing, Told her heart, wait—just wait a little longer. Tangled in wires, endless hours Whispered prayers of hopes and fears Loved ones, now mere bystanders Wait as time stretches thin. Then a call came through, at last, at last— …
You didn’t know that day. That day would be the last time you’d see the sunrise with your own eyes. That day would be the last time you’d feel the wind caress your face. That day would be the last time you’d smell the fading life of the falling leaves. That day would be the …
I loved polka dots, until one day they became Synonymous with blood.
I found an old polaroid of my mother lying in a hospital bed holding her pregnant belly in eager arms— happy, unafraid today women queue for IUDs like wartime rations for milk or beans— our anticipation of motherhood traded for fear, unsure if we are allowed to be prioritized, or simply kept alive in bodies …
My cheeks hurt “Definitely” Stay alert “Absolutely” Crispy cream glazed over. me- The research was for a rover them- Did you find ET? me- Not yet, we shall see I’m special spacial special We win races races races Publication chasers Networking embracers Obligatory acers -stop. slow down. -no, I might drown! Squeaky clean fingers Scrambling …
We’re all in the hospital, torn Grandma is here, torn away from the thanksgiving dinner she hosts Dad is here, torn away from his son’s Saturday morning baseball game Nephew is here, torn away from his breakfast as he awaits surgery We call them ‘Mr.’ or ‘Mrs.’ instead of the loving ‘mom’, ‘dad’, ‘son’ And …
It began with a heavy leg, weakness slowly ascending Soon you found yourself here in the hum of the emergency room Your wife made you come in, you said I leaned close, you whispered “She keeps me alive, September is our 40th anniversary” As you wheeled back under an infinite fluorescence you laughed at your …
No food – Stomach growls angrily. No water – Head pounds, something is wrong. No sleep – Mind begins to shut down. No strength – Arms shake under the strain. No problem – The surgery is over.
Poetry
…bing…bing…bing…
“Hair isn’t everything” my mom told me once.
From abundance to watching the hand tick
Excitation, anticipation, what we’ve been waiting for
Plans, dreams and promises made, but time too quickly taken away.
Use sanitizer
On the train, a stranger touches my thigh—low
i spend a lot of time hating myself
How quickly we get bored of flying.
Patient
I know what you’re thinking, but not that one
