A Second Opinion
I told you what was in my heart.
You asked me to prove it, so
the next day,
I brought round the x-ray.
This here, I said, tapping the acetate,
is the shadow cast by a sleepless dervish.
And these black spots across my left ventricle
are starlings above a collapsing pier.
This mass here
is a hospital lost in a power cut.
And this rather dark abrasion
is a dead fox overlapping an empty wardrobe.
Naturally, you were sceptical,
turning the sheet over and over,
holding it up to different lights,
calling in the neighbours for a second opinion.
My monochrome torso went up in the window
and we all stared at it from across the room,
as if looking at my very own exhumed grave—
a skeleton jammed in a chimney flume.
And I knew that to the untrained eye,
the September evening in my chest looked mild.
But I trusted you, implicitly,
to take your coat with you
on the way out.
by Lena
Refers to Ross Sutherland’s “A Second Opinion”
http://comment.lettretage.de/ross-sutherland-a-second-opinion/