Collage

Photo by Anna Tarazevich on Pexels.com

Today I glue strips of colored fabric

on a round cheese box

to hold my bobbins

I think of your small intestine

glued together by scar tissue

As I spread Elmer’s glue

with a brush

your friend rushes you

to the emergency room

Strips of speckled blue cloth

along the edge of thin wood

strips of scar tissue

form adhesions

a blockage in a pink tube

Green ribbon shot with gold

orange flowers on pink

in a fan pattern

You in your blue cotton gown

tubes in your nostrils

turn the glue bottle upside down

waiting for the drip

while far away

the IV drips glucose into your veins

No solid food for you.

I squeeze the plastic bottle,

air wheezes back in

The tubes in your abdomen

suck the material away

I slide my brush over woven material

squares and rectangles of blue

and green hospital walls

I have a little cheese box covered with bright cloth.

I cannot cover the distance between us.

Written February 28, for my sister having surgery

The Karakesh Chronicles

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