|
Open Heart Surgery
by Rachel JohnsonTwisting sutures
around fingers
and throwing knots
to lock down mere strings—
the things holding together
your heart.
Little quivers—
fibrillation—
but we’ll shock those away
and keep tying down your vessels
with the tips
of our fingers.
A little blood,
like the bright paint
your wife slathered
over bedroom walls—
how daring;
how romantic—
pours out here,
spurts out there,
and then gets cut off
with a cinching of the suture.
A flush,
no leak,
you’re healed.
Until next time.
And in the meantime,
we’re moving on
to the next open heart. 06/04/2014
Author's Note: I held my first human heart today, and I guess I am commemorating it.
Posted on 06/05/2014
Copyright © 2024 Rachel Johnson
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/05/14 at 10:56 AM Refreshingly different and captivating. Nice to see Poetry being taken into and out of the OR. I take it you're training to be a doctor? |
| Posted by James Cavet on 06/06/14 at 06:05 AM A little creepy, a little romantic, a little clinical and a little hopeful. Great stuff to meld together. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 06/06/14 at 03:16 PM About as close as we readers can get - well done. I liked it all and especially that third stanza. |
| Posted by John Harder on 06/07/14 at 12:17 PM I agree with Kristina. The third stanza is brilliant. The redness of blood seemingly takes your thoughts away from the O.R. for a brief moment before you snap back to the task at hand. Also, "daring" could apply to the choice of paint as well as the idea of literally holding someone's life in your hands. Great work. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 08/29/19 at 12:22 AM Good to see this as POTD!
|
|
