medicine

I went to the doctor today:
the diagnosis was life
both chronic, and emergent forms
prognosis, always terminal.
but symptoms can be managed
by the infinite measure of love
administered regularly
via local application:
a shot in the arm.
your hand in mine.
a word in your ear.
my name on the form,
read aloud. Yours, too,
I say yours and listen
and feel complete remission.