1. Murphy, Theresa D. MA, BSN, RN

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How had I come to be here-Elizabeth Bishop


I choose a corner seat where I can see


the Bunker Hill Monument, a solitary pike


rising skyward. Remind myself to feel


lucky. As my mother taught me,


I'm wearing my best underwear, hands


folded in my lap like a supplicant, alert


for the sound of my own name being called.


A woman all in yellow is led through


the double doors, her straw bag stitched


with pink flamingoes. Then it's my turn.


They put me in stirrups, paint my insides


with iodine. I say, It's okay, you're not


hurting me. A couple of snips and it's over,


pieces of me float in a jar. Just some silly


cells gone wild, something to be managed,


like my ex-husband or the sumac that keeps


trying to take over the lawn.