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To begin then, at the beginning
with a team—of a sort.
a surgeon, and apprentice
brilliantly lit,
Like moths round a flame,
both teacher and taught
drawn to the wound, and the
instruments’ glint.
An anaesthetist lost
in shadow (and thought)
reassured by the monitor’s
comforting beat.
And lastly a scrub nurse,
who knows that she ought
to speak up for the voiceless
patient asleep.
And knows that she won’t.
