The Clinic

There’s a crazy fever in my lungs

There are words that

should have been out long since

but are caught

in the oubliette

that was my larynx in

a different life

a different state of mind.

 

Physicality, thy name

is now illness, I christen

thee The Clinic of Flesh

and Bone and Blood.

 

An emergency,

bright lights blinking

in one limb and then

in another fibrous organ.

 

Pulsating masses

too fast, too slow.

Never right in pace

nor fresh of face.

 

My body

is a highway

for the travelling ailment.

An air strip that

strips in half at

every second terminal

malaise.

 

Advertisements

11 Replies to “The Clinic”

  1. I don’t know if it’s because the word “Clinic” clicks with me being a medical student, but I really liked this. I love how graphic this is:

    “bright lights blinking
    in one limb and then
    in another fibrous organ.

    Pulsating masses”

    The anatomy of this poem is certainly an exquisite one. Job well done.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s