• Emergency medicine
• literature and medicine
• poetry

She sat in bed, a room to drama given

Not often or of late. With her a throng

Of fellow teens, all smiles as if room seven

Were home, were Méjico, speaking the tongue

I'd learned one college summer with aims

Of studying pre-Columbian deities -

Those eyeless gods of stone and clay with names

Like Ixtacíhuatl, snow capped queen of trees.

Ciega. Blind. Mi chica had no sight.

I looked into her eyes and saw two suns

Of blinding white - atrophic holes, where light

Fell off the cliff to disappear, forever gone:

Her aqueous flowed but poorly from her eyes.

For Ixtacíhuatl, a maiden sacrifice.