(for M.)

Trust one who's somewhat mad,
Madness gives no affection.
She guns down your embraces,
No matter all your white flags.
She will take your scrapes and gouge them
with her teeth and nails, when bullets run out.

Trust one who's been at war
for a long, long time:
the slightest doctoral touch 
to a lacerated body, anesthetised,
is as  painful as waking surgery.
No matter how loving or perfect the doctor.

Some soldiers must pull 
themselves to the hospital station.
But once arrived, they find
nothing left in the tent but morphine.
A doctor who gives needles and advice
will never heal the shrapnel loss of a leg.

I have crawled the field for my limbs,
only to find them hard and blue.
At last I found crutches,
and stumbled for a while.
Crutches and morphine are for humans;
but I am a starfish from the seventh dimension.

(I will grow my own life, sober and loosened.)
_____

Tay Arrow Sherman.



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