Gratitude poem

I love this poem by Sue Sun Yom (to whom I am grateful for permission to reproduce it here). It is published on p. 111 in an anthology called Body Language: poems of the medical training experience, edited by Jain, N., Coppock, D. and Brown Clark, S., published by Boa Editions, NY: Rochester.


Mr. H, taciturn and a little odd,
Whose wife preferred another man,
And who would come faithfully
Late by fifteen regular minutes
Each Friday. Mrs. V and her loyal
Veterinarian daughter, the other
An internet mogul in Hawaii,
Who wanted only for us to spare
The eyebrows, though she’d lost
All sense of self and hair. These images
Are the ones I remember, when the
Clock runs two hours early,
And the waiting room shrinks to
Maximum capacity. The chocolate and the cards
Are nothing compared to this — a touching —
My hands weaving their way through a life,
Splayed out like tendons, tense and playable,
The sweetest and most bitter of chords.

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