The Professional Sick

no sum of parts
shaped only by
the limbs torn from traps
and the limbs
offered as peace
or bait.
like the professional sick
hire an alms giver
he will carry me to the nearest pool
into which lately pissed a prophet
or son of god.
because i never believed
any great physician
wearing just a face
i didn't recognize him
even as i paid
with my story
and took his back.
because i never believed
in one pool
more than the last
i didn't recognize
even as he passed them all
and hauled me to his own womb
a churn of blood and tissue.
the tide there stirred in fits
pulled time out in salt
compressed it down
stealing only to toss
my shrunken remains
over its shoulder
until holding my breath
felt as right as breathing
and all in one gulp i drowned.
the prophet disguised in piggyback
scraped me to land
by dislocated parts
there arranged them
pressed them into stone
left me there to learn

jul, 2012