When I was twenty-one and dressed
As a patient my temple prepped and poised
To reveal that mass of murky Jell-O
That conjures both heaven and hell
The howling craniotome and stench
Of sizzling collagen curdled my sleep.
Besides a few jags of bone that click and catch
On humid days it’s hard to say how I’ve changed.
I’ve always passed my idle hours
Imagining catastrophes, but who isn’t
