|
To Be A Surgeon
by Trisha De Gracia It's the splaying of the human heart
the finest seeps and tweaks to seed the beats
that cease to catch, yet won't release,
his scent or sigh from every breath
or stillborn fantasy in me
That strikes a chord in my conviction
stutter-cuts my steadfast diction
Sinks its bitter teeth,
ekes out my dreams
and sweeps across the seams
Outdoing and undoing me
and beckoning me on
to find if I can leave his name behind
in atria and ventricles.
If I can take my knife
and while new life is flowing underneath
leave our septic secrets safe and scarlet in relief
Those scars might seal, set me free,
or simply staunch the aching flow
of all of him
in me.
04/21/2008 Author's Note: We got to tour the gross anatomy lab of the medical program. Open cadavers everywhere. Lungs and Livers and Brains.... but I held a human heart in my hands. Thick and weighty with a lifetime of beating now ceased. Tiny grooves of trebeculae carnae, fibrous chordae tendinae holding back valves between chambers. So much intricacy, yet so much cruder than the brain or even the liver with all its secret functions. And I thought: "If there isn't poetry in this, it doesn't exist." I am going to be a doctor.
Posted on 04/21/2008
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Coleman Demiurge on 04/22/08 at 02:18 AM Excellent poem; you took the symbolism of the heart (an actual heart) and worked it perfectly. It's been done before, but rarely ever is it done well; you've done it very well. When it comes to mixing rhyme and alliteration you're definitely the best; I am continually impressed... I really like that phrase "stillborn fantasy" as well. Really great work. |
| Posted by J. P. Davies on 04/22/08 at 03:16 PM Great rhythm structure. |
|
