In the Heart and Vascular Center

waiting room, 

a Malaysian woman from Reno

with a face filled with stories

throws a nod my way.

“What brings you here?”

“My fiancé needs surgery

to close a hole in her heart.

What about you?”

“My husband is getting

a heart transplant 

from the heart of a 35-year-old.”

What mangled grief

for the 35-year-old’s family

suddenly absent one heart.

Over on operating table,

a camera snakes down

my fiancé’s throat

to breach the breadth of her ribcage.

A nurse rolls

the unconscious husband

and his 35-year-old heart

past the waiting room.

“God bless,” the woman says

as she exits.

A 35-year-old myself

with my four chambers

pumping away,

I wave goodbye.