Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we read a poem “Medical History” by Eleanor Stanford, posted below.

Our prompt was a choice between: “Write about a parallel conversation.” OR Begin writing with “The pain started…”

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (“Leave a Reply”), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if you’re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Friday June 16th at 12pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions.

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"Medical History" by Eleanor Stanford

When did the pain start?
Three weeks ago, Saturday.
Deep breath.
It comes and goes.
When did the pain—
It started with my mother.
When?
In 1979, the grey skies of São Paolo, summer a hammered 
             metal helmet.
I’m sorry. My hands are cold. Again?
In Bavaria, before I was born, when my grandfather held the four 
             tasseled corners of the world in his hands and prayed.
Other side.
In a lacquer factory in Hokkaido: the gloss, the stink, the smooth
	    reflective surface.
When?
1934. 1968. When I was five, and learned to move from one element 
            to another. Water to air. Dark to
The pain?
Stabbing. Dull. A branch extending from—
Higher?
Lower.
The pain?
Yes. A tight-stitched shawl. A lacquer bowl—
Here? Where the stomach—
burnished vessel,
meets the ilium.
Ornamental thread I don’t believe in.
Tender? 
Yes. 


Eleanor Stanford
Subtropics: The Literary Journal of the University of Florida 
Issue 19: Spring/Summer 015