Medical Sonnet #9

art by Ana Muñoz

Oh, insolent body! An organ, a glitch:
blood’s sinuous music, an old folk art
delivering sweetness like a side bitch.
An unction that no other could impart,
But wisdom rides ye wary of thirst traps!
Ye may submit to urgency below
And reap wounds unhealed by salve or wrap.
Ay, sugar-blinded, ye will lug in tow
a thorough arsenal of drink and pain.
Crease thy page in the book of dignity
though, in troth, thy body may abstain—
its last nerves fading like ancient filigree.
Prithee, take the remedy sent from dog above
And remember, weary pilgrim, there ys always more to love.

repulsion

repulsion

is a
natural
force

two      magnets
won’t make out;

instead they do that
handshake fake-out


a glib ellipse
a slick oblivion

a refusal you can feel
a pregnant equilibrium

an offering
of opposition

promising,
through negation,

precision

(what
we think

we’re not)

gives us an edge

but
two         poles
oppose
each        other
because
they are
alike

repulsion

is
 a lookout
point

from which to troll
the parts of us we wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole

I was born without a boundary
and so I've made a moat
to keep the dragons close to me
while I go out and float

hypnotist

I dreamed of a hypnotist who could stop a heart
he turned the volunteer away from us;
if love or warmth filled her eyes,
her heart would keep beating
he whispered in her ear and
thumped her on the back
when she came to,
she said it hurt
I clutched her
in a big hug
to fill her
back
up

Contortionist

a woman will fit anywhere

bend over backwards,
conform to any margin

slim as a pencil
tucked behind your ear

or a ribbon on your lapel

slim as the silence
between your words

can of worms

if you are anything like me

you are sometimes afraid 

of what is on the inside

but without oxygen
this can of worms 

would surely die

if play our lives backwards

the bright swan between us rises,
a falling star in reverse,
low tide of our shining origin
exposing the trash and treasure
between where we stand and stood
the moon slow-talks its blank verse
makes us repeat it back:
blink and long, the stretch of the sand
how the sea licks your name
licks it from the earth, the damp relief,
the mouth of it