After the jack fails and the man’s
Face is popped in
Like the lid of a jam jar
We work to stop his nose hemorrhaging
But there seems too much force.
The otolaryngologist
Manages levees
But the river of blood careens
Instead from his mouth,
Pouring in a way I recognize
Precedes bleedout.
He is already a near gut fish,
His stop start heart visible through the open ribs
Where bubblegum pink lungs bow
Rhythmically to the ventilator’s will.
When the CT scan shows
0% perfusion to his brain
The surgeons call out, “Stop,”
And take steps out of the room.
I station myself at the patient’s right side
And hold his hand while his heart sputters closed—
Fulfilling a promise I made years ago,
Never to let a patient die without a sentinel
Clasping their hand, watching them leave the shore,
Even if the only one to bear that rite is me.
Maya J. Sorini, MD MS is an emergency medicine resident, essayist, narrative medicine scholar, and award-winning poet. Her debut poetry collection, The Boneheap in the Lion's Den, won the 2023 Press 53 Award for Poetry and was a semifinalist for the 2024 Poetry Society of Virginia North American Book Award. Maya has a master's degree and has taught in Columbia University's Narrative Medicine program, and continues to work as a freelance Narrative Medicine workshop facilitator and lecturer. Her work has been featured in arts and medical journals, including The Journal of Medical Humanities, Intima Magazine, The Brown Journal of Medical Humanities, and The Journal of the American Medical Association. Maya is an emergency medicine resident at The Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, Maryland.
