To Declan. (my surgeon)

To Declan. A poem. I am gone..jpg

My shoulders rounded, I am hunched

As instructed

Facing away from a man

With sharp steel in his hand

The cold eye of that needle

Contains unsentimental fluid

Poised and loaded with the logic

That will take me away

Before long I am gone

Off into a prayer

My ignorance all wrapped

In total and utter surrender

There could be bird-song

For I am tethered to air

Or the soft parting of warm lovers lips

I am gone

Take me and render me

Your clinical skills

Your cold hearted craft

Are now beyond natural law

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