Dear Standardized Patient Number 1, and Number 3, Mr. C from the 3rd Floor of the Reinberg Building, and Ms. P from across the hall, dear Mr. L from just last Thursday, and the Mrs. L I’ll meet one day, Did I ever say thank
While the city sleeps tucked beneath a dark embrace my mind hears yours. Talk. I am listening. Though nothing but a frail soul beating in basement of cadavers answers. I know you are here. In the heartbeat of silence I imagine a house, a car,
For you I would spend the next four years of moonlight squinting my eyes into the blinding luminescence of an Anatomy atlas, dancing with the skeletons in my Netter’s notecard stack until they become like you, everlasting striations of my latissimus dorsi; and for you