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The Best in FOAM Education

  • Writer's pictureElizabeth Dalchand, MD

Nail Polish - A Poem

debris from silver eyeshadow

leave a mess on the bathroom sink

“it’s humid outside, it must be raining”

says her frizzy, unkept hair.

he’s laughing in the corner

at the hours she spent combing through

the curves and waves

life has thrown at her.

he’s already at work,

but she woke up at dawn and still

has one more brush stroke before she can leave.

at least she saw the dew drops on the wilted leaves outside

and the golden sunrise.

it’s getting late and she realized

her bright purple nail polish is chipped and faded

away with every pump of sanitizer

and every time she heard

“are you my nurse”

but she walks away

to get another manicure

to cover up the old one.

mauve lip gloss in one pocket

and a pair of Raptor scissors in the other that she used

to cut through blood-soaked


when she saw that he

was at the head of the bed

and took the #11 blade out of her pocket

because he forgot his.

but the patient survived and that’s all that

should matter


she lost her hair tie,

unveiling all of the kinks and twirls

she worked so hard to tame.

and tripped over the lip gloss that fell out of her pocket

and landed on

her grief.

shaken thighs and contusions on her back but she

rose with the help of a petite hand

with fingernails covered in

pale yellow nail polish.

she cherished painting and in that moment she wanted to

paint everything in pink

or blue. That’s her favorite color.

and cover the walls of her desolate apartment

with the pearly whites of her smile,

the purple hues of her bruise,

and the soft wrinkles on her face.

and when she was finished

she saw the sunset.

Elizabeth Dalchand, MD is a PGY-2 Resident at Stony Brook Emergency Medicine. She can be found on Twitter @lizdalchand


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