JEFFREY I. COHEN
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Tomorrow, Dr. Coutela arrives
To transplant me from my gardens at Giverny
To a bed in the city hospital.
My dear friend Monsieur Clemenceau
Has assured me that all will go well.
I am only certain that when I return
I will have left behind the cloudy lenses
Floating inside my head
In exchange for a pair of spectacles.
I have waited long enough.
I have seen my arms weaken
My stature decrease
While my canvases grow larger each day.
My brushes lengthen, the bristles multiply
Until their stroke is as wide and unwieldy
As an old man's arm.
JEFFREY I. COHEN. Giverny, February 1923. Ann Intern Med. 1980;93:777. doi: 10.7326/0003-4819-93-5-777
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Published: Ann Intern Med. 1980;93(5):777.
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Print ISSN: 0003-4819 | Online ISSN: 1539-3704
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