The medical kit sits in the corner
In easy reach for each time he visits
Our home. He eats his breakfast carefully
Then pulls the plastic case to the middle
Of a freshly-vacuumed living room floor.
First he pulls the headband with its mirror
Over his eyes like a superhero.
Thus transformed, he takes out the syringe
Pumps it seven times into his forehead
And swings the stethoscope in great circles…
Behind the door, she sits and reads about
Vascular disease and renal failure,
Oblivious to the sagging bookshelf
Until it gives way and books cascade down
In parody of her unending task.
It is a good thing he is here today.
With warmth and sympathy upon his brow
Outweighing surgeon’s knife and chemist’s drug
He grabs his case and is ready to go.
Hippocrates would be so proud of him.
Penguin Poems 