poem

Listening

I stopped using my stethoscope

Right around the time I stopped

Saying I love you to the ones

Who said they loved me.

I didn’t need to go through

The motions anymore.

I didn’t need to pretend 

To listen to the passage of air.

I can hear everything I need

From across the room;

The gasp, the wheeze,

The rasp in your throat.

I’m a surgeon, it’s what I do best.

I cut you open and take things out.

There’s nothing I can do

About that rattle in your chest.

I’ve narrowed my focus 

To places of expertise.

I find where it hurts

And tell you a diagnosis.

What else do you need from me?

You knew who I was

By the dark stubbled face

And the bruises under my eyes.

You know how I feel.

I don’t need to say it.

I’ll be the one who stays all night 

Whispering that things will be alright.

2/21/21