TRANSPLANT
ROOM 3216, DUKE HOSPITAL
We did not choose to meet,
two women both forty–that’s all
we have in common.
Each day, I bring news from the outside,
my dog is better, I saw a yellow warbler.
Taped to the wall are handwritten notes
from your sixth grade class,
your son’s crayon picture
of your family.
In rounds, I comment
on your increasing heart rate,
pray your mind
can keep your heart beating
until a donor is found.
I promise to bring you
black raspberries
full of the sun.
Common Journeys
