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M. T. S. A. (cancer)

by Johnny Crimson

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.


Posted on 11/21/2019
Copyright © 2023 Johnny Crimson

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Glenn Currier on 12/07/19 at 05:37 PM

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.

Posted by Brian Francis on 12/16/19 at 12:25 PM

The healing drafts of poison. The suffering of the process is represented here to me. I like it!

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