*
*
She took it all out
the good doctor did
baby-making equipment
inactive for years
now a threat of disease
*
gone—those parts
that connected me
(forever)
to a boy and girl
parents themselves
*
Who am I now?
*
She took it all out
hoisted up the sagging bits
with sutures and ligaments
curving this torso like a shrimp
pink, bruised purple and green
*
seven short incisions
only one gives the pain
that should accompany
such a loss
*
What am I now?
for Jan
In the container of arugula,
past its sell-by date,
I pick through
the serrated leaves,
toss out the yellow pieces,
the slimy green bits
In the container of your abdomen
people in green scrubs
pick through your sad intestines
(long past the sell-by date)
all stuck together,
threatening rot.
Chop out the bad bits,
sew the good bits back together.
It’s easy with the arugula,
just toss it in
with some romaine (chopped)
a few cherry tomatoes
maybe some sunflower seeds
or leftover green peas.
The salad is ready
no time at all.
For you, though,
your skin tubes and tunnels must be reimagined,
reconfigured,
cleared of obstruction
for your digestion to proceed
according to precedent
for time to heal
for salad
to pass safely through.
The Karakesh Chronicles
Available from
and
http://www.tangledmind.blog – for caregivers
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
Available from
and
Tangled Magic 