home again, home again

queer-with-a-pen

i split myself open

and it wasn’t poetic

and it wasn’t for you

 

was it a gurney i spent

two hours laying on

intubated and unconscious? 

 

remember sinking under 

feeling naked without

any metal in my face and ears

 

i put my trust in the

hands of a surgeon

freeing me up with a scalpel

 

didn’t ask what my ribs

looked like

even though i was curious

 

could he see my heart?

did he see a body that could be

made into a home again?

 

the poet that i am

would like to think so

that he pressed a key into my hands

 

this key carved from flesh

and bone and bruised ribs

finally a welcome kind of pain

 

this pain of something new

thick scars like a promise

like coming home 

after so long 

  • Author: Boaz Priestly (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: April 18th, 2020 04:14
  • Category: Letter
  • Views: 11
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Comments +

Comments1

  • FredPeyer

    no matter how, no matter where, eventually we are always coming home. I do like your poem!



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