Minimally Invasive:

               poems on a life in surgery

by Maria Basile, M.D.

$15 US
Chapbook - 20 poemsChapbooks.html

The Widower’s Lament

My skin falls off in ashy scales.

The one who used to smooth the balm,

on patches rough, too quick

is gone.  She was my wife.

She was my nurse.  She was my life.

She knew the tools I had to learn.

She placed them in my open hand,

a clap of steel on rubber glove,

even before I could ask.

I learned to name them, every one,

the clamps, the forceps, scissors, too.

I learned the moves to wield them well

against disease and illness both.

Once learned, I never had to ask.

The open hand was all it took,

the instrument was there.

Now the empty hand must ask,

Metzenbaum, where is my life?

Richardson, where is my nurse?

Sabiston, where is my wife?

My skin falls off in itchy scales.

and she, who would have known

just what to use

is gone.

Too slow, too slow this turn

From rashes into dust.

Table of Contents



Calling for the Knife

Minimally Invasive

So Good

Love Poe

The Widower’s Lament


I Didn’t Hear

Late Summer Chemo


The Bottle

Midnight Rain

Professional Courtesy

Losing Her

To Sylvia

No More Sullen Art

Goodnight Womb





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The Lives You Touch Publications

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