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Five Years Ago You'd Be Dead


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Ad libitum, indeed.  Aubrey would eat it up?



Five Years Ago You'd Be Dead

Jack Coulehan

Ann Intern Med. 2016;164(9):632. doi:10.7326/M16-0330 


My doctor rides on the shoulders

of magnets and molecules, perched

like a Hindu prince on an elephant,

secure in believing my malicious

invader, fatal then, will now succumb

to reason. His confidence predicting

the past unnerves me. Should I be

overjoyed to learn how accidental

my fragile thread's endurance is?

These days, he tells me, the tumor

is hardly worse than a winter cold,

a week of summer insomnia,

or a busted sparkplug. I'd like to slip

the illusion into my breast pocket

and keep it close for ten years.

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