Questionmark

In living answers out of
questions, I’m like
the dot
at the bottom of a
question mark –
still and present, yet
hovered over
by uncertainty.

Alone, I would be
a full stop –
certain, final.

But that curly ghost
sits on my shoulder
and somehow defines me.

Written 30 Oct 08 – ER

Life, Punctuated

No full stops but,
Quite a few commas,
Sometimes a semicolon;
Pause, change track;
But mostly colons:
One things leads to:
The next and:
The next and:
The next but:
Sometimes abruptly –
A hyphen –
And move on:
From time to time parentheses
(significance couched in a lower-case afterthought)
Until finally in the end
A question-mark laden
Elipsis…

Written 8 Feb 08 – ER

Dissection (Part Two)

I peeled your skin back, Andreas,

exposed veins and

a lack of torment

just a millimetre beneath,

paper thin,

your life’s once-vessel –

connective tissue –

the glove your organs walked in.

 

It must have been hard for you to breathe, Andreas.

You carried a mass in your chest,

extra weight.

It was thick and solid when we cut it –

dead cells that served no purpose save death.

It must have been hard for you to breathe, Andreas.

Your heart was too big.

 

Your organs were in all the right places, Andreas.

Just like mine.

Mine, engorged with blood,

make yours look empty,

death your only anaesthetic

against my fervent scalpel.

 

I am but one heartbeat away from you, Andreas.

One heartbeat.

One precious breath.

 

It must have been hard for you to breathe, Andreas.

Sometimes it’s hard for me, too.

I dedicate this next one of mine to you.

 

 

Written 13 Dec 09 – ER

[NB: Andreas is what we nicknamed our dissection cadaver during med school anatomy lab.  Dissection part one is here.]