by Lauren Young
Dr. Bidiwala held Kyle’s enormous hand in the air, as close as possible to the ceiling, by the yellow fluorescent light box. He rotated the hand slowly as he inspected it. A baseball mitt. A bear claw. A cartoon hand. The damn thing cast a shadow on our faces.
“Wow,” the neurosurgeon mumbled, deep in concentration. “You’re a real, live acromegaly patient, Kyle. I’ve seen one before, in medical school, but I never got to look at him up close. He wasn’t my patient. But you . . . look at your hands.” Continue reading
Haiku are so friendly, aren’t they? Three lines, a handful of syllables: they’re not intimidating and they don’t wear out their welcome. They’re like poems that live next door and will pick up your newspaper when you’re out of town, but they never make too much noise when you’re trying to sleep late on Saturday.
In the spirit of community, Eastfield employees from several neighborhoods of campus submitted haiku. We received submissions from A&C, AEL, STEM, and the Library. Faculty and staff contributed; part-timers and full-timers syllabized and submitted.
The thirtyseventhirtyseven editorial panel selected several haiku through a blind voting process for your reading pleasure. Can you match the author with the poem? Good luck, neighbor.