“A degloving injury attains more significance in the hand because of the irreplaceable quality of the skin that has been lost, the exposure of the delicate structures in the hand…” [1]
The striations of my flesh
Cling to my skeletal phalanges
Every tendon and ligament
Is exposed like an anatomy lab dissection
I cannot feel much when that colorless liquid
Enters my veins and takes its vertiginous drive
Up to my brain and all I can see is
The wreck on the mountain in
The mud where my blood lingers
And how is it that you no longer
Exist anywhere except in that mud
In my brain and my heart is degloved
Because of the irreplaceable quality of
What has been lost
[1] Krishnamoortty R, Karthikean G. Degloving injuries of the hand. Indian J Plast Surg 2011;44:227–236
Arkadia 
I love how you tied being a doctor and being a writer into this poem. Very well done, as always 🙂
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Thanks, Natalie, I just heard about a devastating accident that a colleague of mine has been in, and all could do is write this…
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Oh, no. I’m sending prayers their way. Someone at my school died of cancer this spring, and all I could do was write poetry about it. It’s my only release.
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Thanks. When in doubt, write 🙂
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Very eerie, you have depicted everything o deeply that you frightened me. I hope your colleague gets better soon!
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Thanks, Oloriel.
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Marya, you imbue clinical terms with sensitivity and compassion.
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Oh, thank you, M
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