Remarkable
Movement
By
jim bourey
Oh
for the day of unremarkable bowels
when
they required only a few moments
attention,
a peaceful interlude without
growls
or gurgles, with no sudden rushes
of
fluids and solids, or worse, yea, that
issuing
forth of life’s red essence bringing
alarm
as it stains porcelain bowl and its
tarry
contents. Now quickly to the medics
full
of concern and queries. Then on to
probing
and needles jabbed into veins.
Further
yet to brick-faced, white-halled
buildings
with rooms full of frightening
machines
passing over my body with
hums
and whirls and technicians saying
be
still or else. And yet more needles
and
potions and questions and vague
answers
until body and mind are weak
and
weary. The journey continues
incessant,
with foul bowels now
nearly
as important as sweet poetry.
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