Poetic surgery


A blade line, like a scalpel’s sighs
speaks in layers

A dying one’s whisper
picking seams from the edges of a hushing pulse
the edge taut and tensile
not cold, but conversing
vowels pass from the delicate cut
as you swipe in fancy
a clean cheek-in tongue scarring stroke
releasing resonance
opening cells of skin-softened chords
epidermis, dermis and so forth
until you meet the flush of living words