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Robin Hu

 

The mercury thermometer was a magic wand
Flawless and smooth, wondrous in its power
The living room’s bright lamp
Shone upon the clear, viscous mercury

As if I wanted to consume its powers
My three year old mind decided to stick it in my mouth
The dull glass rolled against my sharp incisors

I bit down and heard a crunch
The shards of the thermometer scattered
With a life of their own like ants throughout my mouth
With the mercury guiding them along

My mother walked into the living room
Her fingers mashed the numbers on our home phone
Frantically dialing the ambulance

I sat peacefully on my mother’s lap on the front lawn
Listening to the cicadas chirp
Blue and red, sirens punctuated the dark, starry sky
Waking up the quiet night

I was rushed to a hospital
Put on a bed
Surrounded by tall faceless men in scrubs and masks
Poked and prodded

Until one of them declared
Nothing was wrong
The glass was removed from my mouth
As my mother breathed a sigh of relief

I was offered an ice pop
Cherry with two prongs
It was sweet
I only had half

 

 


Robin Hu is a Finance major from Roseland, New Jersey. He plans on graduating from Rutgers Business School in May 2024. This poem is about a childhood memory of an incident where he bit down on a mercury thermometer and was rushed to the emergency room. His gratitude goes out to Professor Joshua November who helped expand his creative writing skills while at Rutgers.