i’m not a doctor.
i’ve never been to medical school.
hell, i can barely distinguish between
the fibula and the tibia.
i know how to suture your wounds
with minimal scarring.
how to evict the ache
that has settled
deep in your bones.
how to set a bone
back in its proper place
without you so much as lifting a finger.
i know every remedy
you have requested
better than my own fingerprints.
every treatment you have received
while in my care.
even the ones that sting.
that i tend to get the minimum pay
from you in return
for my hours of monitoring your health.
so maybe i am a doctor.
one who pays attention to your wounds
with such precision and care.
yet somehow is utterly oblivious to my own.
Audrey Coleman is a sixteen-year-old writer hailing from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. her work can be seen in the next generation, 2021-2022: the national edition, the 2022 ralph munn creative writing anthology, and the February 2023 issue of voices de la luna, among others. when she's not writing, she can be found reading, listening to music, and participating in many extracurricular activities.