Thursday, May 4, 2023

poem

 Op Note XXXIX

It was starting to get ridiculous. I’d remove a gallbladder and then another would appear. So I’d take that one out too. Blink of an eye and there’d be another. Same place too. Cornered right there between the liver, heart and a hazy kind of darkness. It kept growing back and growing back, over and over and over. But that’s just your life, she said. You’re always working. No, I said. You’re wrong. It was the same patient. The same gallbladder. Eternal recurrence and all that. She shook her head.  You’re getting confused, she said. You’re working too hard. The lack of sleep is causing delirium. You’re no good to anyone like that. I’m worried about you. You’re going to get yourself hurt, or someone else. Please listen to me. I’m the one who loves you, she said. I didn’t hear the rest. I felt it coming on again.There it is, I said. Look! Such beautiful light!  What a blessing to be the one who gets to take it out. That’s what she said, she said. Then I reached in through her heart and pulled it all the way out. 


5/4/23

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