Surgery Is A Penny

Surgery is a penny that you spend on a far shore
with your coconuts in a vice but your sunsets like molasses
and magma... your begonias, black and burly -
swollen with the kind of life -
that could fell an Elephant
in a dark room.

Like a pin in a cricket.

you have questions, but the hole in your pocket
is the answer... swallowing the currency of your Soul
with Clarity.
the forceps are walls festooned with Ivy
ever marching over your gaping wound.
and all the Curiosity that fanned the flames
of your ardor; pulls the plug
as the ghost in the machine
draws a breath
with  zero
point

For One.