The Magistrates
My musician patient in a fetal curl, Tchaikovsky’s “Meditation” plays an endless loop against this climate controlled conspiracy of monitors and machines...
Richard M. Berlin, MD
My musician patient in a fetal curl,
Tchaikovsky’s “Meditation” plays
an endless loop against this climate controlled
conspiracy of monitors and machines,
scattered clouds in the picture window
behind him arranged like crash cart cotton,
the volunteers’ rose garden a hemorrhage
of reds punctuated by river birch
more radiant than my white coat,
two crows perched motionless on a branch,
dusky beaks and brown eyes trained
on our window, wild magistrates
judging the way I broke bad news-
how I pressed his hand, absorbed tears,
held our silence inside Tchaikovsky’s
embrace, sky suddenly cinematic,
thunderhead crescendo, curtains of rain,
trees bowed in musical submission,
courtyard cleared, only the crows
clawed down to deliver a verdict,
room blacked out, machines mute,
midnight wings spread to cloak
a partner lit by lightning.
Dr Berlin is Instructor in Psychiatry, University of Massachusetts Medical School, Worcester, MA. â
