words they use in hospitals

by Annie Marhefka

comfort measures

I don’t hate the term as much

as I should, or as much

as I loathe other phrases

that embed in foreheads 

like initials in concrete.

It is softer than

do not resuscitate

silkier, kinder, more

humane, like a bed of 

autumn leaves and not

an intubation hose.

It is more fleeting than

advanced directives

unfinished, in motion, less 

final, like a hummingbird

that darts and hovers and not

a document signed at deathbedside.

It is more infinite than

end-of-life

stretching, lasting, not

bookended like a bamboo stalk

that climbs into ceiling-less sky and not

the cessation of breath.

comfort measures

like the steam from chicken noodle soup,

a brush of soft fingertip 

to shoulder blade,

a squeeze of a palm,

release.

Annie Marhefka is a writer in Baltimore, Maryland, where she spends her time writing, boating on the Chesapeake Bay, and hiking with her kiddos. Her creative nonfiction and poetry have been featured in Anti-Heroin Chic, Versification, Sledgehammer Lit, Remington Review, Coffee + Crumbs, and Capsule Stories, among others. Annie is the Executive Director at Yellow Arrow Publishing, a Baltimore-based nonprofit supporting and empowering women writers, and is working on a memoir about mother/daughter relationships. You can find Annie’s writing on Instagram @anniemarhefka, Twitter @charmcityannie, and at anniemarhefka.com.