“Under the Knife”

You ask me what I want to be?

I ask myself who I’ve become,

And somewhere in between these

Is the right someone,

And all I want to do,

And all that’s left to prove

In myself, everyone—even you?

I don’t know where they are,

But I do know where to start,

In these words, my art,

The pen becomes the scalpel

Making incisions in my heart

And if I slip and slice—

Perhaps an artery—

Let the words rush out from every vein, uncontrolled,

Like a rare hemophiliac waiting for a cut that won’t close,

If the lifeblood gushes too much, stitch him up, quick,

Before he oxidizes and the air taints the very message in his soul—

I’ll keep writing,

Everyday if I have to,

Bilateral dissections

In ones and twos,

Pulling out my organs

And earthly tissue,

Though I may be no surgeon,

With hands that only tremor,

I write to save my own life,

One last operation to remember.

2 responses to ““Under the Knife”

  1. I’m always skeptical of poems that rhyme while discussing a really tough topic, but you weave the two together seamlessly. The rhyme emphasizes the emotion rather than lessening it here, and it’s so beautifully written and so honestly spoken that I can’t help but want to read more of your poetry.

    • Thank you so much for the comment, and I’m so glad you liked it 🙂 You’re correct that it’s very easy to become skeptical about rhyming poems–I find myself only doing them when I know I can make them work right. Sonically, they can be very helpful but they can also hurt the work itself a lot if used tastelessly. Again, I’m so glad you liked my poem and I look forward to, hopefully, hearing more commentary from you as I post more.

      B

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