I’ve challenged myself to write a poem (not necessarily about medicine) every evening I’m on call for the foreseeable future. Here’s the first offering.
Pillow Talk
I never wanted you to know
how I
wake up in bliss
your name, a pearl dropping
from my tongue to
cold pillows
I reach out
curl in
stop
how the
jut of your wrist
the feel of the fine hairs on your belly
the old white scar on your knee
linger in the back of my mind like
choking on fresh hot blood
how your
legs intertwined in mine
give me daydreams of tree roots
twisting
twining
growing
dying
I never wanted you to know
how I
drive past the park on warm evenings
and think of powdered sugar on your nose
and the sticky feeling you left when you
kissed my throat
and fed the ants our dinner
how the
arc of your body
diving deep, clear water disturbed
makes my spine stiffen
my neck hot
how your
spirit owns me
and I
can’t even bring myself to scream
I never wanted you know
that I am shackled
a puppet on invisible strings
a cape of yearning and a
a crown of craving
my daily burden
I never wanted you
and then you
bruised eyes, dry lips
spun me round