What a thrill—
—Sylvia Plath
Oh boy a second’s
slip & instead of bread
a slice-shear off years
of careful tread.
Nonretractable
that switchblade switchback
second repeats &
repeats, oh, you’ve done it right!
Yet back & forth
on the kitchen floor
soaking wad after wad—
judgment poor, flawed god
Master of knives
repeat the sin,
a loop in the brain,
dig in!
See it again & again
through a gauze bulb
blooming pink
with a dangle end
To snip or pinch
but not to touch
as your gut sinks
in lieu of lunch.
No pill
but a redcoat march.
No doctor are you,
to the clinic go.
A shot a suture,
go by the book.
What a relief, hey doc,
wanna hear a joke?
Who’s tall &
svelte as a blade
yet cringes
at the prong of a fork?
Antiseptic boy
bumble bum,
bulbous blue
clown thumb.
The Mockingbird Sings 