Tuesday, 26 July 2011

Wound Man

(By Sil, the 26th of July, 2011, Bellenden Road)

You’re coming for a shave
Blood letting or are you
An embattled knave
Show me your gangrene

I have the tools
But you must not balk
At the warm pulsating mass
Nor faint at the sight of
Black oozing mud

My words will hack
Through the bone
With swift precision
Well sharpened saw
Oil of cloves to soothe
(We're out of booze)

A tooth, an amputation,
Whatever hurts
Whatever must be shorn
Wipe a blade clean
Through pain
We're reborn

(Isn't all therapy
Part love
Part medieval surgery?)

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