Works

Day in and day out, You support me unconditionally throughout.

Between the whiteboard schedules and half-erased plans,

The hum of a finely tuned machine

His cries were strong, like when he raced out of the womb and into unsterility

Fleeting hope– will it ever escape

First week of medical school reproductive unit

The referral requests a small miracle: ICU, clots, comorbidities.

She looked to me With quiet apology, and Not a word spoken.

The sounds of machines begin beeping from the hall

Impatient rad read,

At the North end of the hall on the second-floor unit

It can’t be easy giving your heart away.

The day that I first witnessed

Tata, your prayer beads moved in your hands like quiet thunder,

Before I knew the language of medicine,

The pages I read.