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JAMA. 2008;299(3):258.

	Since this article does not have an abstract, we have provided the first 113 words of the full text and any section headings.

Port wine, the red that rises
From the wound once trochar is removed.
Blot away and cauterize
Skin edges, then bring close to hide
The scar with monofilament. This port
A tiny window, the rabbit hole
We plumbed to search for silent sickness
In the belly. A fatty curtain hid
The chronic worry. We pushed aside
The mesentery, slid all good guts
To quiet corners, then eyed the fiend.

Divided with staples above, below.
Ligated vessels with sharp, hot sound.
Then out with death through another
Hole, smaller than my hand. I tense
On clamps that clench, and pull,
"Specimen," I call, and it is done.
More stapling, then it’s
Monocryl for everyone.

Maria A. Basile, MD
East Setauket, New York

Poetry and Medicine Section Editor: Charlene Breedlove, Associate Editor. Poems may be submitted to jamapoems@jama-archives.org.