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roll off of loved ones’ tongues
like outrageous, untamable snakes?
and in the Building Across The Street Where People
Die,
will every door handle
which is 99.99% sanitized,
but 0.01% not fully clean,
remain touched
by the doctors who’ve knocked above it,
by the souls who’ve been wheeled past it,
by the parents, and the children, and the spouses
who’ve clung to it
in prayer, and anguish, and numbness?–
in any case,
I believe in that.
Untitled
By Mika Jain
M2, Harvard Medical School
maybe someday a person
or a ghost of a person
from the Building Across The Street Where People
Die
which houses corpses, and ghosts,
and so much paperwork
about our Ideal Way to Go
will let me know
if this is all there is.
but in any case,
can you promise me
that when I join the caravan of Cell Ancestors,
if I end up
in the Building Across The Street Where People Die
and our memories together
are ripping through you like a wildfire–
for whatever room we’re in,
you will break off its door handle–
which remains touched
by every doctor who’s knocked above it,
by every soul who’s been wheeled past it,
and by all others who’ve clung to it–
and please, my dear, hold it with me.
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