名人诗歌|The Teacher

I was twenty-six the first time I held

a human heart in my hand.

It was sixty-four and heavier than I expected，

its chambers^{1 slack；}

and I was stupidly surprised

at how cold it was.

It was the middle of the third week

before I could look at her face，

before I could spend more than an hour

learning the secrets of cirrhosis，

the dark truth of diabetes^{2， the black lungs}

of the Marlboro woman， the exquisite³

painful shape of kidney stones，

without eating an entire box of Altoids

to smother^{4 the smell of formaldehyde.}

After seeing her face， I could not help

but wonder if she had a favorite color；

if she hated beets^5，

or loved country music before her hearing

faded， or learned to read

before cataracts^{6 placed her in perpetual twilight7.}

I wondered if her mother had once been happy

when she'd come home from school

or if she'd ever had a valentine from a secret admirer.

In the weeks that followed， I would

drive the highways， scanning billboards^8.

I would see her face， her eyes

squinting^{9 away the cigarette smoke，}

or she would turn up at the bus sTOP

pushing a grocery cart of empty

beer cans and soda^{10 bottles. I wondered}

if that was how she'd paid for all those smokes

or if the scars of repeated infections in her womb

spoke^{11 to a more universal currency.}

Did she die， I wondered， in a cardboard box

under the Burnside Bridge， nursing a bottle

of strawberry wine， telling herself

she felt a little warmer now，

or in the Good Faith Shelter，

her few belongings^{12 safe under the sheet}

held to her faltering^{13 heart？}

Or in the emergency room， lying

on a wheeled gurney， the pitiless

lights above， the gauzy curtains around？

Did she ever wonder what it all was for？

I wish I could have told her in those days

what I've now come to know： that

it was for thisthe baring

of her body on the stainless^{14 steel table}

that I might come to know its secrets

and， knowing them， might listen

to the machine-shop hum of aortic^{15 stenosis}

in an old woman's chest， smile a little to myself

and， in gratitude^{16 to her who taught me，}

put away my stethoscope， turn to my patient

and say Let's talk about your heart.