Friday, February 27, 2009

we spoke of oysters

This one's dedicated to my oral surgeon who was a kind and handsome man, but whom, nevertheless, I never, ever want to see again(!)
we spoke of oysters
by the bay
which muscles
had beards (all of them)
washing hands with bread
she said she could not write
he said to make a fist
and then remembered it had rained
tears formed on all four corners
of my eyes
but never found a reason
to become
the rest I can't describe;
only those who live
in the hours that dress like minutes
day after day
and leave the rest of us
with icepacks,
swollen cheeks
and blood to taste
could tell you what it's like (what occurred)
when the whizzing metal
met the bone

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