Heartbeat

every heartbeat has
a soaring spike, then a dive
electricity
racing dizzily along
fibers that will die one day

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

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