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    Standards of Care
    The Sun InterviewBy Naomi PittsStandards of CareRolonda Donelson on Bias and Anti-Science Attitudes in Medicine

    The reason Black women were used to develop the field of gynecology was because they were no more than property. They weren’t seen as people; they were just seen as things. The controlling of Black women’s bodies started with chattel slavery, but it continues today.

    Milk
    Readers WriteBy Our ReadersMilk

    Pumped for an infant, spilled at the dinner table, used as a tear gas antidote

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Poetry

    Poetry

    Extrication Day

    It is easy to forget your own body with a patient under your hands. In training we learned how to call the air ambulance—how to say the right words on the radio, hand off our patient to the flight crew, and keep our heads beneath the spinning helicopter blades.

    By Luke PattersonSeptember 2024
    Extrication Day
    Poetry

    I Make Jokes When I’m Devastated

    If you walk the stations of the cross, most tour guides / will politely point out the spot where they think Jesus / may have fallen or the spot where / he may have met his mother.

    By Luisa MuradyanSeptember 2024
    Poetry

    August at Forty-Three

    For six years we’ve taken no precautions / and my body has made no / third baby, nor have we plotted / to create another life, content / to let nature do what it would

    By Nadia ColburnAugust 2024
    Poetry

    Better Yet

    Wanting to go beyond where I’ve already been: / Isn’t that supposed to be a good thing to do? / Then why would I rather go all the way back to the day / before I was born?

    By Jim MooreAugust 2024
    Poetry

    Why I Respect the Dog

    The dog weighs twelve pounds / and uses them as she pleases. / The king-size bed is not big enough. / Sleep enabler, stretch-monger, / when she wants to be touched, / she offers up the narrow white arc / of her belly. When a loud face / crowds her, she growls. Or, depending / on the weather, the time, the face, /she doesn’t.

    By Catherine PierceJuly 2024
    Poetry

    Aubade with Calf

    So early the mist remains hammocked / between hills. My hand / palms a calf’s muzzle. // We are two beings / drawn together by instinct. By this definition, / I have found the one.

    By Megan J. ArlettJuly 2024
    Poetry

    The Wisdom Package

    I ask the youngish eye doctor why my eyes itch / and burn and why new floaty bits / of paramecium-shaped debris swim // through my view each day

    By Hayden SaunierJune 2024
    Poetry

    My Mother’s Disease Introduces Me to My Mother

    My mother’s disease wants / to know my name. // My mother’s disease takes / me in // with my mother’s eyes.

    By Michael MarkJune 2024
    Poetry

    My Father Not the Sky

    My dad used to wake us up at 5 AM on Sundays / with the vacuum cleaner, saying, Get out of bed, / the day is wasting, and then he’d be asleep on the couch // by nine, just as the sun began to lift its head / over the houses.

    By Angela Voras-HillsJune 2024
    Poetry

    Happysad

    Gobbling tortilla chips with gleeful abandon, I forget to chew, and one triangle catches in my throat. Instantaneous panic. Sudden, deep, mammalian fear.

    By Leath ToninoMay 2024
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