Ode To Her Scrubs- A Modern Aceso
Two hues disturbed in my closet drawer,
I'm sorry I could not wear both
and be one underpaid healthcare professional.
Long I stood,
and looked at both as long as I could
to where they were crumpled in a pile;
A barrier between me
and carcinogenic pathogens
which multiply, 3, 6, 9. Ebola as 12.
Bolivian hemorrhagic fever as 13.
A cotton cocoon surrounding me,
An apron to protect my epidermis.
Round my neck hangs a trusty stethoscope
which brings sound to my ears
for documenting vital signs-
Life expressed as jagged lines.
Ah, scalpel, clean scalpel, clean scalpel,
One must autoclave it by noon.
Leaving behind sights of plague and staph
I Pasteur-ize
Into a culture ripe with mold
I ‘rize
Bringing the gifts that Hippocrates gave,
“First do no harm.”
I ‘rize
I ‘rize
I ‘rize.
O Cotton! my Cotton! our fearful shift is done.
One short cycle, we clean eternally,
And sanguine fluids shall be no more; Scrubs, thou shalt dry.