Odds

The doctor moves his finger across his right knuckles,showing me the part of his hand he’ll put insideto take the kidney. Along the bottom of the lab results I readRadiographs demonstrate normal heart size, something I findsurprises me. Then, several dozen vials of blood,I drink radioactive apple juice and iodine,ink is injected into my veins, heat shoots to my groin, I vomit.

I consider the little pulsing treasures inside of me,what the scope might find in my shipwrecked insides,gems that never opened and bloomed, dormant buds.I recall what has been inside of me that I wanted to keep there.And the things I want out, rooted firmly in the bed of my belly.