After a morning
Of scalpels and gauze,
An ocean floods my skull,
A bluish dream prescribed
To drown a universe of faults

To kill the illness
Sown deep
Within an ancestor’s grave,
The wild and flourishing weed
Winding up through my marrow

The long
Pill-sick weeks
Turn to steaming vapor
Once the vials lie empty
And the sutures fade

This long
Clear minded climb
Restores the color in my voice
Returns a ravenous hunger
And floods my nerves with sparks