In My Body 09:32

An antiseptic taste, the faintly brittle creak as lips wet foam. Melting,

melting. Like my mind

sinking.

Into this scene, supported by stirrups.

Gauze daubing wound edging,

soaking antibodies and bodies of my own. In my body

is it?                          

Cells and capsules; division and death. A curious collusion

But even in death vanity prevails.

There I lay among untouched toast and foiled wrapped butter

creamy soup with crusty bread, gelatinous second seal rendering cling-film redundant.

Every hidden protein shake a shaken fist in the face of those good doctors

defiant jeopardy against their work.

For a body needs fuel to recover - to survive, and I was fighting that

silently but ceaselessly.

They fought to save my body

I strove to make that body disappear.

Time splits seams in the fabric of my being

an unstoppable flow.

While I stagnate before this bowl.