Saturday, August 28, 2010

Replantation Sonnet

There lays the severed pale digit on ice

Atop the table, freshly draped in blue.

Here rests the clean hand with French nails so nice

The team calmly moves, there is much to do.

K-wires fix  jagged bone ends together.

Tiny arteries stitched, loupes magnify

Hair-fine suture, careful not to gather.

Tourniquet loosened to a rose colored high

Signal transporting cables, yes, the nerves

Repaired; not yet emitting clear signals.

Ribbons, not blue or red, but  white swerve

Into line, moving fingers into balls.

Wound edges, matching pinks, together mold

Into a ring which should have been of gold.

2 comments:

Coleen Wheeler said...

Excellent poem! I need to think about putting some of my medical experiences to verse. What a wonderful outlet!

Gizabeth Shyder said...

Lovely, Ramona!