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a transplant's symphony

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The heart
is as small as a fist
though can mimic a metronome
and gently stomp:
fortissimo


and pounds
in the middle
of your chest
to make itself known.


After hours,
hours, and
hours of
focus


and patience
with his patient
this surgery
was slowly becoming
an andante
with every beat


cramps
fed his frustrated fingers


but now silence finally floods the room
absorbing every recent twenty three hours
of hardship:
all is safe.


Hour five
the patient was crashing
sinking


and the heart monitor
became erratic:
quick beeps


a staccato
that sent
signals to the room to dash like a brisk bullet


her body
sinks into her rested dorsal
and accentuates
her pallid,
frigid body


her heavy heart beat
dips down on the monitor
and simultaneously
the doctor’s stomach drops


silence
serenity
stillness
sits on the shoulders of hour twenty three; an adadgio


“we did everything we could
to save her,”
would suffice


her donor’s heart would not
live another life

the conductor
would look at this
colorless and
soon-to-be corpse’s
children:
his requiem


in the eyes
and apologize
after the rollercoaster ride
in operation room number five


hour twenty three
secured his once distressed
and trepidated composure


and sent his assistant to sleep
and though the operation had its:
highs and lows


her melodious,
new heart beats


the beautifully crafted symphony
finishes with a leggierissimo
and delicately dips,
undisturbed
into its new home




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