Note to the Young Doctor

Doctor, oh doctor, doing your rounds,
Your voice carries when you walk the ward.
We lopped off the breast, you say to the students,
Who nod and scribble and scurry around.

There you are, an arborist in some parallel universe,
Carelessly lopping the branches from trees.

Dis-en-gage, dis-en-gage, dis-en-gage,
I chant to myself in three four time.

Lit-tle-pup.
Lit-tle-pup.
Lit-tle-pup.

How are you today, you ask, pseudo adult-you.
I grunt a reply, yes, GRUNT a reply.
You stiffen, make notes, and with a jerk
Of your head, gesture the students away.

Oh, little pup,
don’t you know?
don’t you know?

I was a gorgeous woman with magnificent breasts!
I had lovers galore who treasured me, all.
We sipped wine, drank of life, and more.

And what does that count for now, for now?
What does that count for now?

Heather Cameron is a poet, short story and creative nonfiction writer. Her publications include the creative non-fiction Different but the Same; Young people talk about living with serious illness. Lothian Books, Melbourne, 1998, and more recently poems she has written from her experience as a cancer survivor and health professional in cancer and palliative care, as part of the creative writing PhD at Deakin University, Victoria, Australia.

Photo With Her Puzzles by RC Barajas