Works

Death counts rising
No superhero in sight

I remember finding my rhythm in the ER. Most days I am pining for more.

From humble farmland thrust into a world of perils worse than any predator.

30,000 killed,
9,000 children
*swipe*

Polaroids on the walls,
Plush pillows lost in a heap of sheets.

Soft and warm,
Light at the end—an invitation.

Oncology Wards. Christmas Day. I’ve been dreading this for months.

Rich
a flourless chocolate torte

A beautiful boy dies
My eyes don’t cry

Golden eyes open, unseeing
But I know
She knows it’s me.

Sun-kissed freckles,
Stark against your pale face.

Day 1: you are minimally conscious
Without coherent thought.

He decompensates at shift change;
The team is pulling out the epi drip.

Back in the hospital; pain, bloody stools.

Septic shock, stabilized.

I was once told
to be careful
with the words we choose.

Two pairs of brown eyes glaze over as the

Another night, another >35 admissions

No one talks about
the secondary trauma

Black fingers match black toes

Disappointment overwhelms me as we
wheel her to the ICU

It starts as a forced collaboration

“Sick or Not-Sick?”
Our first task after leaving the classroom.

I love watching a brother,