poem

 NecktieI stopped wearing necktiesTo the hospital for roundsPaisley blues, power redTips whisking across woundsNo more Windsor knotsFor me, too much work Too much like a nooseHanging from my gallows I won ’t contributeAnymore to my own deathIt ’s enough just being aliveIt ’s why I don ' t smoke or skydive Or swallow swords or eat fireWhy hasten the end?I should have joined the circus —The world ' s smallest man:Watch him twist himself intoA tiny bug-sized bow tieThe gift shop with rowsOf twisted reproductions Of my pretzled contortions Made from strands of woolDyed the color of human flesh.You have to squint to appreciateThe pointless artistry.My body is a perfect ligatureKnotted so tightThe skin is starting to blue.  9/3/22

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - September 4, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs