A poem for a physician in the ICU
In the ER, we ask, Was he wearing a seatbelt
Partly for the note, but partly so we can remove ourselves
From exploded flesh, splintered bones,
Not sure if we can save that eye.
Something in us says, that will not be me;
I take precautions. We live on,
On the strength of the stories we tell ourselves.
But in the ICU, when one of our own has come in,
After a well-informed try at smothering the spark,
There …
