A Conversation with Maya J. Sorini

Maya J. Sorini is the author of the poetry collection, The Boneheap In the Lion’s Den (Press 53, 2023). Come to her book talk on 4/11 at 7PM EST (see below for details)

Maya J. Sorini is the author of the poetry collection, The Boneheap In the Lion’s Den (Press 53, 2023) which won the Press 53 Award for Poetry. This collection centers on her years working in the trauma unit of a large urban hospital, chronicling and exploring the reality so many in healthcare face: living up next to catastrophe and miracle. She holds a Master of Science in Narrative Medicine from Columbia University and is a current medical student at Hackensack Meridian School of Medicine, where she continues to process work in medicine with poetry. 

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As a physician poet, I can say that this book is a thrilling read that centers upon the idea of sacrifice in this field, the system that allows both patients and physicians to suffer, and the trauma faced by patients. In a time more important than ever, Maya Sorini takes us into the world of the emergency room and the trauma patients encounter whether it is from gunshot wounds (of which there have been far too many these days) or the pain faced by patients. 

Many of Maya’s poems are inspired by her research in the clinical trauma surgery setting, working nights in St. Louis when, “the machine gun fire is so regular I pretend it is thunder.” It is in this unique setting and time that we are transported into her world of sacrifice, violence, and healing. As a reader, I was struck by how much I recognized that trauma transcends patient population, language, and culture. As a healthcare worker, I realize that we see trauma everyday, experience it frequently, and work diligently with its aftermath. These are the vital themes explored through Maya’s collection. 

The word that I believe encapsulates Maya’s work would be intentional. Starting off the poetry collection is the piece, “Moratorium,” exploring the necessity of “say[ing] what you really mean” when someone passes away–or rather, dies. This book, as seen in this poem, goes into the heart of what matters in medicine: say things outright, call out the system for what it is, meet patients where they are. For the most part, Maya’s poems are shorter in length, which reflects the idea that she doesn't mind approaching hard topics face forward and daringly in ways that are challenging but of utmost importance to ensure reflection and good patient care. 

At the same time, there is beauty to be found in these pages, most prominently in the title series: “The Angel in the Lion’s Den,” “Daniel in the Lion’s Den,” and “ The Boneheap in the Lion’s Den.” When interviewing Maya, she revealed that these poems are an allegory for the system of medicine itself. Indeed, it is thoughtfully done as to comment on who, truly, takes care of the patient. Sure, there is the healthcare team, but what else? Moreover, who is there to take care of the healthcare workers? This collection of poems explores what it means to be a healthcare worker in this world–important for fellow healthcare workers and patients alike. I’m grateful that Maya’s book has allowed even greater reflection and opened up conversations, like this one, about the challenges in medicine and how to move forward. 

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EZ: Maya, thank you for taking the time to sit down and chat to me about your newest collection, The Boneheap In the Lion’s Den. To start off, I would like to offer my congratulations for you winning the Press 53 Award for Poetry that allows readers like me to explore the world and words that you have encapsulated in the book. To start off, I would like to ask you about your writing journey and how that has woven itself through poetry. 

MS: I have always enjoyed writing but didn’t get serious about poetry until I started working in trauma at WashU. I was seeing so much violence, so much damage, and most of my peers at the time (sophomores at WashU) were not able to help me hold these gory stories. People would ask me “What’s the craziest thing you’ve seen in the ER” and look appalled when I honestly answered, the time a police officer put a severed human leg in a trash bag at my feet. People told me to stop talking about the guns, about the death, but I needed a safe place for the stories. I started writing poetry and it became as natural and necessary to me as crying or drinking cool water. I am not a poet by choice, I am a poet because that is how my mind and soul process a life as witness, and I feel very lucky to have found ways to share that catharsis with others.

EZ: You have a collection of poems interspaced throughout the collection titled, “Rate Your Pain:” with the classic 1-10 pain scale laid out. I notice that it is hand-written with the circling of numbers that increase with every poem, sequentially. Can you tell us a little about how the creative process went into making these poems possible? What inspired you to write these poems and put them into the collection? 

MS: Funnily enough, I wrote the sixth poem because at the time I was struggling with shin splints and didn’t have the language to talk about what the pain was doing inside of me. That lexical gap– the distance between my experience and the words I could give the experience– reminded me of, “The Pain Scale” by Eula Biss, a stunning essay about the fallacy of rating pain with numbers. I was experiencing my own “hurricane” of pain, and set out to write a new pain scale, as oblique and subjective as the numerical one we in medicine pretend is truth. As the collection builds, the reported number of pain increases and the poems become messier and more obscure, with a number of lines corresponding to each number on the scale. It keeps becoming more frenzied until the last poem, the ten on the scale, which is simply “carrion.”

EZ: The pace of your work over these past few years is incredible, especially since you started writing in college and are quite busy as a medical student now. Since you started this journey, what were some other poets who were important influences, teachers, or mentors for you? 

MS: I have thanked the first poet I ever really knew in the collection, Niel Rosenthalis, who taught me two out of the three dedicated poetry courses I have ever taken. Stacy Nigliazzo has been an invaluable resource for me as both a friend and font of inspiration; her first collection Scissored Moon is arrestingly beautiful and a must read. I am a devotee of Richard Siken (particularly his “Detail of the ___” series in War of the Foxes) and Robert Frost, but otherwise find that I am generally attracted to individual poems or collections rather than reading an author’s entire portfolio. 

EZ: It’s clear that this journey into medical humanities is one that is not taken alone. In that vein, what advice do you have for other healthcare workers who are creating art or are interested in exploring this avenue? 

MS: Step One: You are not alone if you feel like a split thinker- someone with a scientist’s worldview and the heart of an artist, or vice versa. It is okay to feel like you’re doing something nobody has ever done before by trying to bring art into medicine, and while this journey is yours, Ellen is correct that you are not on a path alone.

Step Two: Read, read, read, read, read. Read what excites you, what scares you, what you find yourself unable to turn away from.

Step Three: Write everything, all the time, no matter if it is garbage. 70% of what I write is debris swirling around my head and uninteresting to everyone, but that is okay! It keeps me generating, testing, and attuned to what I am feeling so that as I process, I am able to bring in more language. In my opinion, the more that writing becomes reflexive, the less it feels like work and the more it feels like a relief. 

Step Four: Welcome to the medical humanities. We are so lucky to have you.

EZ: I understand, through our conversations, that you have big aspirations in the future for being a poet physician and it seems like you are just getting started. What can we look forward to next? 

MS: My “private” life in medical school continues no matter what is happening in my more public poetry life, and I have been furiously writing since being back in the clinic with patients. My official book launch is April 11th over zoom with Press 53, and all are welcome! In the next few months, I will be hosting some Narrative Medicine seminars and workshops with my publisher, Press 53, as a way to bring NM to more scholars and show how it can be practically applied in medicine. I am currently booking poetry readings, talks, and signings and am always honored to speak to or write with medical humanities-minded scholars across the country. To follow my work, you can find me on instagram @mayasorinipoetand, check out my website with the author’s guild, or contact me via email (maya@poetand.com). To keep up with medical writing at its best, subscribing to the Panacea substack is a great place to start!

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I would like to personally invite each of you to the Zoom book launch of my first poetry collection, The Boneheap in the Lion's Den, winner of the Press 53 2023 Award for Poetry. This collection centers on my years working in the trauma unit of a large urban hospital, chronicling and exploring the reality so many in healthcare face: living up next to catastrophe and miracle. I am a current medical student continuing to process work in medicine with poetry, and would love the chance to meet some of you and discuss our collection of experiences in this beautiful, difficult field.

The event will take place on Zoom (register here) on April 11th at 7PM EST.