home again, home again

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