"You're a doctor, right?"
he said as he lifted his shirt
"Tell me, is this normal?"
Across his torso were threads
of red, rose, gold
coinciding with black
They circled, they swirled, they turned,
They stretched upward
from his ribs, and from his gut
and became the shape
of a heart
I said, "I knew you were
hiding something."
Another bad poem cause why not