A job listing in my morning inbox:

“Denial Resolution Specialist I”

for someone who wrestles the gap
between a patient, a provider, 
and an insurance company
that will not cover
a treatment for illness.

I don’t know if I could do this: take on
a full time job as an angel wrestler;
if there are even angels
in insurance offices they would likely 
bruise my hip before they would acquiesce
and pay up; I’d walk out every day
limping, my very name shifting
as I considered
my failures, my victories —
who am I even, my daily question;
the casualties incidentally
piling up and up, a mountain 
higher than the rescues,
neither close to the height 
of the business of healing
and how it happens or not.

I cannot imagine
what a “Denial Resolution Specialist II”
deals with. How they even breathe
under the weight of the title.