Ralston

today I learned
that when Aron Ralston was severing his own arm
in that place of unyielding inspiration
we call the desert
he saved the gleaming nerve fibers for last
fearing the unfathomable pain
of that final separation

that gave me hope, I guess
if he could muster the courage
to jimmy a dull knife through inches of searing flesh
to snap his own bone when the time came
then surely I can find a way
to slip out of the confines
of a life that I've outgrown

this would seem the place
to paint some metaphor about a butterfly
emerging and flying triumphantly away
but remember that nature shows
skip to the good parts

and when the butterfly first strains free
of its tomb-like chrysalis
it's exhausted beyond the limits of its
soggy, trembling new body
unable to do anything more than try to breathe
and practice flapping its cumbersome wings

so I'm just going to sit here for a while
and breathe, if I can
and flap, when I have the strength to
and just...
just breathe

Connection

the leaves outside my window
turned gray in the twilight
while I wrote

I get up to make tea
thinking about the view from your window
as you write
and sip tea

2300-0700

the ED tech travels as if on wheels
yanking me from room to room

family and patients make note of us coming and going
and return to their texting and crosswords
for it's all waiting here

in room 2 a man is gone
I should say he is dying
but that feels so active
and this cancer-ridden body is all passivity
the wife, the son, wait
faces dry and resigned
how long have they been hefting this wait around?
his eyes, distended
point unseeing at the wall
barrel chest shudders and heaves
with the force of the ventilator
I'm sure his last conscious breath has passed
but this is not a vigil
and no one focuses on the man
our exit goes unnoticed

across the pod
a middle-aged woman with a broken shoulder
weeps when we touch her
hunching around the assault and embarrassment
tears track down bare breasts
she blames herself for standing in a hallway
and being knocked down by a crowd of teenage boys
I feel like I'm watching her add this
to her list of reasons why she is
stupid, broken, not enough
the splint we apply seems flimsy
plaster and a sling never healed a heart in pain
and her mother complains
about the expense

the night wanes
so morning must be coming to replace it
while I'm helping to empty the bladder
of a catatonic woman from the psych ward
I smell her, unshowered, as the nurse inserts a catheter
her flesh trembles as we press upon her bladder
I hold the leg aside, like you would for a woman birthing
I put my hand on her head and tell her "te estamos ayudando"

and of course there is no emotion showing
but when I pronounce her name
I give it the proper Spanish lilt
and her eyes turn toward me
a syllable slips through her lips
a shard of beauty amidst all that is broken

Amateur Cardiology

I've touched heartstrings
and they're not wimpy
they're thick and fibrous
almost menacing in their strength

I've measured the muscles
that eject blood with such force
that it rockets around the body
and back to the heart within a minute

I've watched the surge and dive
of electricity through the heart
and I know our hearts will beat
over 2.5 billion times in this life

so trust me when I say
that my heart
and yours
can overcome, endure, and adapt

trust me when I hold out my hand
as we take flight together
knowing the landing may bruise us

trust me when I say
that we can love limitlessly
and survive

Fairview

above her, blossoms
doing nothing but being
white petals outstretched

Thoughts on Ithaka

For Rebecca.

I hug you harder than either of us is used to
your necklace presses tiny leaf prints into my collar bone
I may be imagining it, but you feel thinner
or maybe sorrow has made you delicate

"ask that your way be long" says the poem
"when you set out for Ithaka
ask that your way be long"

but your father is gone
far sooner than he asked for
as if he sailed away one day
over the edge of a world
made flatter by his departure

something heartfelt and useless
pushes its way out from between my lips
the words drop to the ground
and shatter between our dressy shoes

I have nothing else to say
nothing that might lift the veil from your eyes
but maybe it helps that I see
you

maybe it's a comfort
that I bear witness to this time
when you are set apart by loss

maybe it helps
that I remember you
before you languished in grief

if I can do nothing
say no incantation
if I cannot deliver you
from the grip of Laistrygonians and the Cyclops
and wild Poseidon

if I cannot sail with you
because this journey is not mine

then at least I can hope
for a journey full of adventure, full of instruction
for a way that may be long

May

spring has begun to whisper
into summer's ear
"it's nearly time, beloved"

I sit on the balcony
wrapped in a blanket
drinking tea
watching the leaves grow fat
too slowly for my eyes

the cat waits beside the door
ready to dash out past my legs
we both yearn toward the broad sky

Measured

life measured in breath
to live it is to watch it
evaporating

Stardust

I run my fingers along the bones
of someone I never knew
exploring this person more intimately than anyone
I claim to have known

the sphenoid, wings spread to help cradle a brain
the ilium that may have swayed to music
the calcaneus that bore the weight of countless steps
the trochanters and tubercles where muscles grasped and yanked
this body into fluid, unfathomable motion

less than a centimeter of impermanent flesh
separates my phalanges from the set of carpals I puzzle together
less than a microscopic speck of time
separates me standing in the biology lab from the life extinguished
that gifted these bones to posterity
less than 1% of genetic difference
separates me from the contents of this plastic box
the body of a human like me
that, like me, coalesced from stardust