Marionette Hospital
“Every little movement has a meaning of its own.” – Tony Sarg
The phlebotomist on third shift with his own antalgic gait,
glances and smiles at the pained grandfather who extends
an arm for labs for a possible hot joint.
The hospital cook garnishes the broccoli and herb quiche
with extra sprigs of parsley, covers the chafing dish,
loads it on the trolley.
A night float resident wipes his bloodshot eyes,
answers a page about a critical result
with a cheerful hello and thank you.
A golden retriever topples to the floor, spread eagle;
a hairless girl from the cancer ward
kneels down and strokes its furry belly.
A nurse clocking out doubles back
to gently touch the arm of the tearful woman
outside the chapel. They’ve never met before.
Evelyn M. Potochny, DO, is a physician in central Pennsylvania. Her work has appeared in Hektoen, Proud to Be, The Journal of General Internal Medicine, and JAMA.
Really enjoyed this poem.