(7/19/2004)
under ether
the surgeon has the answer
a clean white man’s perfection
can be yours…
but first you must sleep
under ether
my mind went to the woods
hunting myself–
trying to get that arrow through my heart.
Funny how it always misses
that most important muscle.
But the doctors are working to fix that
They will connect my mind and heart
so that we won’t fight anymore–
at least that’s how I understand
their optimistic jargon.
“You’ll feel better!”
Maybe their drugs
just made me a fool.
When I woke,
I saw the incisions and adjustments
all done to mask the fact that
they couldn’t achieve my hopes.
“We’ll start physical therapy tomorrow”–
before the nausea wears off
and I’ll be another person passing
in society
another person who can pass
for perfect–
at least when he isn’t sleeping.
made me cry.