Thursday, March 1, 2012

spiritual surgery

Split atom,
sliced open.
Gaping wound,
crying for restoration.

Open flesh calls out for second flesh,
a meeting of minds,
to close out all air from the gap.

Oxygen screams past,
calling forth wet tears
to cover nakedness
in sympathetic sorrow.

You attach no alien limb,
but re-attach own self,
suturing skin to skin,
that bodies may meet bodies,
whole and yet co-mingled,
separately complete,
federally joyous.

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