Recurrence
The conversation went exactly as one might have expected
though not as one would have hoped.
The Dr. came in, listened carefully. Asked questions
I had not been asked before.
Nodded his head.
Understood from a place perhaps provoked by age –
he was just a few years older and had a sister,
he said. I’m going to talk to you like you were my sister, he said,
time and time again.
He told me to look at what he was seeing.
He held my hand.
*
Poet, essayist, and editor, Abriana Jetté’s work can be found in Best New Poets, Teachers & Writers Magazine, PLUME, Tampa Review, Poetry New Zealand, and has been supported by the Sewanee Writers Conference, where she was a Tennessee Williams Scholar, the Community of Writers at Squaw Valley, the Southampton Writers Conference, and other places. She is a two time recipient of finalist fellowships from the New Jersey State Council for the Arts for Poetry (2023) and nonfiction (2024).
From The Archives: Published on This Day
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Poignant poem, the artful side of medical practice that we don’t get to see in the current rush. I think this is what most doctors are called to do. Thank you for highlighting this. 💜
In some poems, the title says it all. This is one of them. Then the rest shows the human experience, as good as it gets under frightening circumstances. Esp. in a time when doctors have one 15 minute appt after another all day long, and have to spend more time on computers than with patients. Glad to have read this poem.
How much is said here is so few words. Terrific poem. I will not forget this one.