Impossible Objects

Emily Kocurek

Bleeding.

Her mom’s been bleeding for days.
Transfusion after transfusion,
As if her veins were sieves.

Drinking.
Her mom’s been drinking for years.
Bottle after bottle,
As if her only worry were gin.

Dying.
Her mom’s been dying for hours.
Heartache after heartache,
As if there weren’t enough already.

We sit on the floor together
And discuss impossible objects.
She’s kept eternal hope
But also wished her dead.

Now she holds a jaundiced hand,
As she longed for hers to be held,
And fears this wish fulfilled.
I hold her hand too with our hearts

Bleeding. 

Author’s note: Impossible Objects

Emily Kocurek, M.D., is an Assistant Professor in the Division of Pulmonary and Critical Care Medicine, Department of Internal Medicine. She divides her time at UAMS among her research projects, clinical duties in the medical intensive care unit and pulmonary clinic, and being an associate program director for the internal medicine residency. She is a Little Rock native.

Dedication: To Josh, for always giving me perspective.