poem

 DivineThe best parts of the Bible are the ones unwrittenLike the time Christ was cutting his nailsBy the quivering light of dying candles.Or the divine piss that pooledAround the roots of treesWhile the dawn birds chirpedAnd the crickets sifted in the grass.The sweat, the spit, the holy shit,The rhythmic reverberation of His snore.I saw Christ Himself today on the surgical floor.This sunken chested old lady,Skin like closeted leather.Colostomy for an obstructive cancerBulging with gray sludge and foul gas.She shook her spindly finger at meAnd pursed her cracked lips.Her yellowed eyes caught A glint of the morning sunrise.Why so early young man?I ’ve just begun to freshen up.For the first time in my lifeI suddenly knew the right thing to sayBut she ’d already fallen back to sleepAnd the words became too holy to speak.12/16/20
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - Category: Surgery Authors: Source Type: blogs