If I Were a King
I could believe in God.
I would wish the grapefruit
held in my hand
could turn into a little sun.
I would refuse to see
that everything born before me
was already gold,
that even wealth can’t stop
a daughter from crying
at the sight of a hardened rose.
If I were a king,
I wouldn’t know how to row
my boat of stone.
I wouldn’t know
everyone
is traveling alone,
looking for a flock of birds
converging on a single word.
On Influence
It used to be that medicine was an obelisk.
The retiring docs taught us to always find
a reason to touch the patient during a physical exam.
We learned to hear murmurs like rivers,
to order beers
for alcoholics in withdrawal
and tap their swollen bellies
with bedside ultrasound.
Promising to do something to relieve suffering
we sang hymns in devotion.
Knowing Miriam was made snow white
with leprosy when she spoke against Moses,
we tried to keep the sky a bright shade of blue.
These days there is no God.
It’s mostly video,
and everyone wants to be an influencer.
These days internet myopia
measures worth.
Last week I started work at a new clinic.
Gray curtains covered all the windows
like a hearse’s inside.
A woman asked about anti-aging treatments.
She wanted to know
how much botox she might need,
how long each laser lasts,
but didn’t ask about the costs.
Now the worst thing that can happen is old age.
Natalie Marino is a poet and practicing physician. Her work appears in Pleiades, Rust & Moth, Salt Hill, South Florida Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. She is the author of the chapbook Under Memories of Stars (Finishing Line Press, 2023). She lives in California. You can find her online at nataliemarino.com or on Instagram @natalie_marino.
Image: brooksfamilyentertainment.com
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