Wednesday, June 5, 2024

Biopsy

 

Biopsy

While sedated on gurney
I forget to breathe. 
Nurse (tiny woman) shouts 
    “Breathe, dammit!” 
so I do. I pay attention to women.

Another nurse (burly, male)
apologizes for shaving my chest hair.
I understand men.

A voice from somewhere asks me to choose 
music for the room—Beethoven or Mozart? 
I say “Bluegrass.” 
Voice asks “Huh?”

Dosed with fentanyl, mind detached, 
I follow my body into an extraction factory—
fingers, scalpels, giant needles,
a sharp and delicate ballet 
to bluegrass ballads of betrayal,
knife murder, songs of mortality 
making the surgeon wince.

Lab results next week
to learn if I’ll soon be dead. 
Woozy in wheelchair to curbside to home 
with my love to sleep all afternoon, 
then evening watch a rom com because 
we prefer happy endings. Don’t you?


…..

First published by Please See Me. Thank you editor Steve Granzyk.

Photo by Sasin Tipjai

Note: a week later the lab results showed no problems. Benign is a lovely word.

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