Poetry About Medicine

In tablets counted into a paper cup, medicine finds a visible shape. A stethoscope warming in the hand carries what ordinary speech leaves unfinished. Between research notes beneath blue light and a nurse checking the night chart, the heart learns to listen. Care joins knowledge to the vulnerable fact of another body, though the day rarely says so aloud. By night, a patient walking past the ward doors becomes a promise rather than an ending.

A stethoscope warming in the hand enters the poem first. Medicine follows, neither symbol nor explanation, but weather. A nurse checking the night chart keeps the difficult measure. We stand near tablets counted into a paper cup and let certainty loosen. Care joins knowledge to the vulnerable fact of another body. A patient walking past the ward doors remains after the room grows quiet.

Someone remembers research notes beneath blue light. Someone else names tablets counted into a paper cup and means an entire life. Medicine moves between them with patient hands. A stethoscope warming in the hand refuses to become only background. Care joins knowledge to the vulnerable fact of another body. At last, a patient walking past the ward doors gives the silence somewhere to rest.