End Notes
Pumpkin Face
By Ashley Wentworth
At the Children’s Hospital party,
I was the fish stationed by the fountain
One story below events on the balcony above,
Looping prizes on a line for the fishing game.
Look at the frogs in the waterfall!
I turned to see a mom and
Her wheelchair-clutched son.
He was four, maybe five.
His face, swollen to the size of a pumpkin,
At first distracted me from the
Gauze and tape below his lower jaw.
What did the bandage mask?
Was it a surgeon’s territory, marked from
The taming of a rouge lymph node?
Or did this superficial side show distract
From an unruly circus within?
Look at the helicopter!
Mom pointed out the window,
As a steady hum engulfed
The quiet of our fountain vigil.
Maybe it’s another kid coming
Here to get better like you?
His first smile ballooned his pumpkin face,
As he watched the life-sized toy.
Do you think we can see the party from here?
She wheeled him forward to watch the
Games above, and I wondered why
He couldn’t join the children overhead.
Would you like a prize? I asked,
Extending the party he could not attend.
From among the brightly colored
Toys and candy, he chose a simple ball.
I heard my name called, so I left them
To their isolation within isolation,
Turning one last time to see
The smile still carved on his pumpkin face.
Ashley Wentworth is a second-year student
at Mayo Medical School.