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Volume 18, Number 4—April 2012
Another Dimension

Leaving the Hospital

Anya Silver

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As the doors glide shut behind me,
the world flares back into being—
I exist again, recover myself,
sunlight undimmed by dark panes,
the heat on my arms the earth’s breath.
The wind tongues me to my feet
like a doe licking clean her newborn fawn.
At my back, days measured by vital signs,
my mouth opened and arm extended,
the nighttime cries of a man withered
child-size by cancer, and the bells
of emptied IVs tolling through hallways.
Before me, life—mysterious, ordinary—
holding off pain with its muscular wings.
As I step to the curb, an orange moth
dives into the basket of roses
that lately stood on my sickroom table,
and the petals yield to its persistent
nudge, opening manifold and golden.

Poem reprinted from the New Ohio Review, No. 9, Spring, 2011, by permission of Anya Silver.

Dr. Silver is associate professor of literature at Mercer University in Atlanta, Georgia.

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DOI: 10.3201/eid1804.ad1804

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Table of Contents – Volume 18, Number 4—April 2012

Page created: March 05, 2012
Page updated: March 30, 2012
Page reviewed: March 30, 2012
The conclusions, findings, and opinions expressed by authors contributing to this journal do not necessarily reflect the official position of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, the Public Health Service, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, or the authors' affiliated institutions. Use of trade names is for identification only and does not imply endorsement by any of the groups named above.
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