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Contests : Margaret Reid Poetry Contest : Past Winners : 2009 : High Distinction
THE SLEEPER
Susan, How do you do? The nurse called me about you just now.
She said that you had trouble getting to sleep. I'm the resident on call.
Oh, I'm from Texas. Maybe you can tell. Even without my Stetson.
Your parents live near Council Bluffs. You go to the University here.
Yes, I've learned about that. I read it in your chart a few minutes ago.
Sometimes the tumor causes a generalized weakness, but it hasn't for you.
I agree, that's why I'm here. Sometimes it is better to talk than to take a pill to sleep.
No, I don't mind. I've seen that you have been here quite a while for tests.
Don't worry. I was up. The nurse would not have called me just for nothing.
She's a friend—and a very good nurse. She said your parents left this morning.
You're an art student. Must be fun. Tell me something about art school,
about what you like about art, artists, what to look for in the museums.
Are you kidding? None. Not like this watercolor. Have you seen a doctor's handwriting?
Then you can imagine. Since you were seven! That's perseverance. Doctors need it too.
What do your parents say about your choice? Farming must be a tradition in your family.
Must be hard to break for the oldest. No, not a psychiatrist. The beard just comes along.
A curator too. I want to make cures too. I knew it, you can smile. Even to a corny line.
I think I can see your humor in this scene. Look at the lop-sided hay stack.
I didn't know that cows got drunk. I thought drunkenness was required only for artists.
What have my professors told you? I see. That's accurate. I can't add anything to that.
The oncologists are excellent. No, I never had time for art classes. I like Hiroshige.
I have untutored tastes. I learned colors from Sherwin-Williams and action comics.
Yes, I have learned something of the people here, and about real seasons and winters.
Well, if you've seen one mesquite tree, you already done seen too many rattlesnakes.
You know, since I don't get out much, only a few parts are frost-bitten.
Rest this week. Chemotherapy next week. Your anemia should be treated too.
Your eyelids are drooping; and the IV is almost finished. You don't need a sleeper now.
We'll talk tomorrow. You can show me how to mount and frame my kabuki print.
Good night. Must mean my heart is warm. Nights are much colder here in the winter;
and, on some of these clear nights in Iowa, you can see a long distance.
This poem won a High Distinction award in the 2009 Margaret Reid Poetry Contest sponsored by Tom Howard Books. Author Louis Girón received a $200 award. Winning Writers assists this contest. Copyright is reserved to the author.
About Louis Girón
I am a neurologist. In the course of training and practice, I have had profound and moving experiences with individuals who try to cope with unexpected and wrenching turns in their lives. This poem sprang from one especially memorable encounter; and honors the brave spirit of a young woman who did not grow old. I live in Kansas City and have traveled in many countries and hope to do so in many more. My poetry has appeared in Revue (Kansas City), Sunflower Petals, Del Sol Review, Perihelion and The Potomac.
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