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Night: A Fragment
JAMA. 2000;283:445.
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| Since this article does not have an abstract, we have provided the first 90 words of the full text and any section headings. |
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He knows his body's in a rage, and yet
how nonchalant
disease, the end here
and not here, his schedule cleared
for years. Outside, the palms are stirred;
mosquitoes drone.
At length he longs to cough,
to have the lying body heard—
his is a mixed relinquishment
to suffering, though: he swallows pills; the pills postpone
the light. But the night itself is lit,
the California moon, the dead
almost irresistible.
Let the living go on living, Rilke said.
There's nothing else to be said.
Randall Mann
San Francisco, Calif
Poetry and Medicine Section Editor: Charlene Breedlove, Associate Editor.
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