It’s painful to open up
after the sutures close.

I’m done with all the medical stuff.

Your an appendectomy,
and the sharpness grows.

I’ve taken to the fever of our fights,
but I’m not sure I can sacrifice
a whole organ
to have you home nights.

Date after date,
the inflammation grates.

I think I need a fast recovery.

Someone new to be my general anesthesia,
to make rupture what won’t break.

To be my gradual amnesia,
a hospital stay.

And afterwards,
let the covers be like surgical tape;

I can handle the whole thing;
that’s my preferred method,
in any case.


Cover Art: Leonid Rogozov removes his own appendix—”the cursed appendage”—in Antarctica, 1961.

7 responses to “The Cursed Appendage”

  1. Katie, I really like the way you carried the medical conceit through the whole poem—it makes the pain of love feel so raw to me.

    Much love,
    David

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, David. I have been going through a bit of an adjustment period myself, but I know healing and recentering always happen. I am grateful to you for leaving me these kind words. 💜

      Liked by 1 person

  2. love the daring of this piece: the medical metaphor for the emotional disruptions — sharp, indignant —

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you kindly, John. I may need to consider a follow-up. A kidney failure, perhaps?

      Liked by 1 person

      1. 🙂

        Like

  3. I love this, but you know I love your writing style.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Thank you, Nicole. You’ve got me blushing all the way over here. It’s super nice of you to say. I’m a big fan of your pen as well.

    Like

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