The O.R.

In this poem, McKenzy Wall ’22 delves into a moment in the operating room, where stakes and tensions are high.



Gloves and gown on, mask fastened.

The room is cool, lights bright 

almost like a spotlight.


All is quiet lest the 


Of the machinery and the

Shuffle shuffle

Of feet on clean tile.


The patient lays flat on the table

Asleep, the world unknown to her.

Lock eyes with your colleague — 

Worrisome flicker in his gaze.


This surgery will not be routine.

Run through every step:

Images projected in your mind

Like a screenplay.


Deep Breath.




It’s time.


“Scalpel, please.”

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