Immaculate Hemostasis

the surgeon wrote. A medical term, my mother translated: almost no blood in the scalpel's wake. All wounds require edges—these were clean and small. But I heard heliostasis and thought instead of the sun immobilized, of winter light suspended. My losses today are virtual, theories only. Sometimes a measured devastation brings relief, the cellular fortress holds. Or a paring knife slips and breaches; we must find a bowl of ice, press a towel to the accident