Your magic makes
the meeker marvel
as maimed and maligned mud-seekers merge.
Your tonic torts
and twists the ties
whilst the tweezers trickle down her thighs.
You seldom seize
the smallest of seconds
as someone sings a seizure song.
You articulate the arts
as abstracts pull apart
and all the arteries in your abdomen assault.
To me, your poem shows me the chaos of cancer and its treatment. You are paying attention. That in itself is a gift beyond measure. Thanks for sharing.
The healing drafts of poison. The suffering of the process is represented here to me. I like it!