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Event Horizon
- Southern Illinois University Press
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56 Event Horizon Saw the gravel edge, The curve ahead— One second expanded Tire caught stone Then all, All slid from mind And hand, then lovely Resignation. * Loose container Of fragments, bone Parts afloat in gel Pain closing teeth on Nothing, eyes Filled with ceiling tiles, Gurney bumps. Brain Burning the odds. * Lying still after I.V. morphine, feeling Blood velvetize the thousand Tissue screams— Blessing. Rising Like a shaky scaffold To crap in a chair by my bed— Lord have mercy. 57 * Once, played Vladimir In a production of Waiting For Godot. It Hurt, that part, it was Too close to everyDay , stripped Of obligation. Please, When will the doctor * Come? I ask, or Sarah Asks. But nurses Don’t know, phlebotomists, Aides, housekeepers Don’t. The Docs’ Hands way too deep In chests, heads, bowels, too far From any pleading. * My roommate’s dying Moans, grunts, No no, no no no’s Steal more of my sleep Than vital signs— Blood sticks, B.P., dressing Changes. Then die, I whisper To the dun curtain. [18.217.60.35] Project MUSE (2024-04-17 22:33 GMT) 58 * Doug & Susan Come, & Lucinda & Leslie, & Rachel, & Alan, & I get smaller With each visit— Farther away & harder To hear, to see, until no one Comes, I am not there. * Thought like a black Seed in my head—I may Not return. Grew, Infected Sarah, who left The sad room to scream Inside the car. Sad Room, may I go home, May I leave before I leave? * Three tubes in my side Coil to two Blood boxes By my side, chuffing Bad fluid out My chest. I feel each tube Move as I move, Dagger on bone. 59 * Stitches snipped, needles Removed—sent home, Home to mend. All shall be well, soon. Dressing change daily, Gauze packed Like nettles in the wound To keep it open. * Roshi said the people In the plane crash Are fifty percent responsible For their own deaths, The other fifty— Nothing to do with them. The rest of us shuttle between One half & the other. * Mind keeps The unutterable to The margin—black stitching Around a valentine— True Love the cursive Stitch wandering The edge, while further in— O Death, Be Mine. [18.217.60.35] Project MUSE (2024-04-17 22:33 GMT) 60 * Which is to say My death so tiny My death so intimate My death so embarrassing My death so chalky My death so thin My death so decorous— Quiet in the hospital chair * Fever, & the tunnel From infected Fluid inside to bandaged Skin—hot poison Spurts each time I turn or cough Or laugh. Lucky the latter’s Rare, & rarer. * So much good Was mine, an embarrassment, A warehouse, A loft of busy artists. Is there a scale That knows me, i.e., says Hey, you’ve had enough, Stand down? 61 * God hauled in Again for questioning— Is this your work By chance? No, I’m well out of That business. But you Admit being at the scene?— Among others, yes. * A week without A shower Because a walk across The room ends in Exhaustion, & water Cannot touch My wounds on either side. Let me sleep, & stink. * Pre-op countdown: Remove your Rings & underwear. Lie flat on the gurney. Allergy to latex? Emergency Contact, not your wife? Living will, on file With us? Comfortable? [18.217.60.35] Project MUSE (2024-04-17 22:33 GMT) 62 * Some nurses say Sweetie, Others Sir. Some Find the vein Right off, others hunt & poke. Some Have healing faces, some Soft hands. All Arrive too late for pain. * Jesus, listen, I don’t know, I think I have not been This close to nothing, I see now How you live, the cold, The invariance—I see your need, Feel your likeness. * One can heal And it is not sentimental, Not a story for kids, Not a myth— But miraculous— Orpheus returned From the underworld, glad, Head full of hell. 63 * At the center Sarah, then Laura & Bonnie, Then Leslie, other Friends, nurses, emails, Cards, phone calls, Flowers. Then The grit I saved from childhood. Sarah at the center. * To come back After long illness—like switching Gills to lungs, All fours to walking Upright—to be human Again. I mean The human of Mozart & Weil, Not some airy phantom. ...