The siren’s song
slices the night
cutting with its cry
The ambulance drives
acrobatically.  Intellectually,
I introduce myself,
and they bare themselves,
skeletons and all.

They know

Not who I am
But that I am their only hope.

They know

Not of my fallibility
But of my preparation,
my education, my obligation.

They do not know of my trepidation.

Should they be informed
before they consent?

When they come
to me hope
is what they cling to.

Who am I to suggest they loosen their grip?

Dan Miller, Class of 2005