Ode To Her Scrubs- A Modern Aceso

Two hues disturbed in my closet drawer,

I'm sorry I could not wear both

and be one underpaid healthcare professional. 

Long I stood,

and looked at both as long as I could

to where they were crumpled in a pile;

A barrier between me

and carcinogenic pathogens

which multiply, 3, 6, 9. Ebola as 12.

Bolivian hemorrhagic fever as 13. 

A cotton cocoon surrounding me,

An apron to protect my epidermis.

Round my neck hangs a trusty stethoscope

which brings sound to my ears 

for documenting vital signs-

Life expressed as jagged lines. 

Ah, scalpel, clean scalpel, clean scalpel,

One must autoclave it by noon.

Leaving behind sights of plague and staph

I Pasteur-ize 

Into a culture ripe with mold

I ‘rize

Bringing the gifts that Hippocrates gave,

“First do no harm.”

I ‘rize

I ‘rize

I ‘rize.

O Cotton! my Cotton! our fearful shift is done.

One short cycle, we clean eternally,

And sanguine fluids shall be no more; Scrubs, thou shalt dry.