I wanted to write a poem about my psychiatry experience. This is really rudimentary and still needs a lot of work.
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Countertransference
On the elevator I unclip my pager
slip it into a bag where I stow a stethoscope I never use
Running my finger along the rim of the bell
I decide to thin out my belongings
The scope is marred with dust
but I set it in my ears anyway
curious what a psychiatrist hears
A man certain homeless shelters are for homeless people
but when he steps into one it is filled with normal people
pretending to be homeless
following him
A victim of a motorcycle accident
transected spine leaving him motionless
who finds me a best friend one day
a liar the next, depending on the pain
The pain, that was all she could say
this woman my age, who had fallen two stories
fracturing dreams of school.
This much school, I think, looking at the stack
of books overflowing the shelves, piling the ground
This much school to accept the stories these people offer
to justify returning the stethoscope to the bag.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
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