by Vivian J. Hua*   Beneath our fingertips, your bruises ripen under lamplight.We offer you small morselsof grief – you takeinside your mouth.You offer usyour wound –Inside, the soul soaks in silence.Your body closes.We, who can offer younothing but facilitationsof pain, sit quietly amongthe whirring machines.Meaningless gods, we thinkof tombs. Vivian Hua is a 5th year medical student at Stanford School of Medicine. She is pursuing a career in dermatology and is passionate about the intersection between dermatology and the medical humanities. Email:

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