Sunday, 6 April 2008

Yell poem

As the forceps seized my head
and the doctor drew,
as a dentist pulls a molar,
my white head through
the neck
of its tight pullover
and out onto the bed
limbs blooded and face blue,
I thought: it can't be true!
This carcass-wreck,
This giddying glimpse through
To the moment when all's over.
And full-throatedly I said:
No! Give me something else instead!
And if those words came out askew
That's sometimes simply what words do.
You plan a speech, you voice a yell.

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