Poem 127

after watching a scary amount of documentaries involving surgeries I am inclined to write out a fear of mine about going under the knife. 
I’ll see you in the ICU
After the chopsticks and the quick flicks
Of silver slivers sectioning us out. ­
I’ll see you in the ICU
Embroidered like a pillow—
Don’t sit up, just. rest.
I’ll meet you in the ICU
After we’ve decided it was time
To bend the bones—out
To stretch the edges—out
To sew the seams—closed
I’ll meet you in the ICU
We’ll watch the roadblocks in your veins
Pass through the tubes and flush away.
And if I don’t…
…meet you in the ICU
I’ll be waiting downstairs.­­­­
—ECW
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