You are semi-aquatic The silent metronome Cathected, a pristine serum In jungle loops As if you had begun to shed your skin The translucent arteries displayed In their machinic glory Imagining the melodic sound Slowly drowning The way Icarus did The doctor finding Lodged in your side With cupped fingers, genuflected Between crookèd hip and folded rib Burned from the stitch of breathless running A kind of knot Quietly, in amelioration green Saying, thank the angels and abominations If the child had not been sick Treasured, coddled, machined, subjected Devoured, destroyed, made made Drowned in the sea inside the sea He would have died
