Elida Kocharian ’21 uses poetry to encapsulate the emotions and observations of a clinical patient in Mt. Auburn Hospital.
notes from mt. auburn hospital, thursday, sept. 20th, 2018
There’s a shuddering shuffle
beating bass into my breastbone
Beep. Beat. Beep. Beat.
like an intravenous invoice, except
my body didn’t get the message.
Beep. Beat. Beep. Beat.
This bed ages me.
This bed is too cold.
This bed is a vice, closing capillaries
Beep. Beat. Beep. Beat.
sweet and slow, like the eleven different drugs
stuck still in anoxic arrhythmia
Beep. Beat. Beep. Beat.
between the pulse of my lips.
Healthy is a relative term and I can’t
Beep. Beat. Beep. Beat.
heal a redcoat organ without
cutting her out.
Beep. Beat. Beep. Beat.
Beat.
Narravitas 