Back in day (of ma
     mum, and perhaps
     since time immemorial)
     utterances of physicians
     nsync with Staff of Asclepius

pounded against floor,
     (which wrought
life to entwined serpent,
     whose beady
     eyed hypnotic power)

     understandably
     ranked doctors among
near mythical powerful
     Gods, who ought
best not be ignored, thus

     (then a young Harriet Harris,
     now long since deceased)
     felt overbearing heft of
     medical practitioners final words,
and subsequently would nought

refute, ignore, nor
     dispute sacred commandment
hence would n'er be accused
     of sacrilegious immodesty,
     impiety, or impropriety

     (towards medical institution),
     and never doubt voice
most supreme in the universe,
thus she felt caught
against challenging authority

     meekly surrendered
     her only son bought
(with bargaining chip
indubitable faith
     in omnipotent equip

ment with hocus
     pocus magic to flip
precious life humming along,
     or force death grip
upon a lovely boy (christened

     Matthew Scott Harris),
     at present lapsed beet hip
pea hooping to stave
     off crossing the lip
of LX bracket, there

     fore reckons a nip
and tuck (think
     prefrontal lobotomy),
     asper when just a pip
squeak ushered,

     where mine existence
     could be mortgaged
with accidental,
     (or purposeful) slip
of the knife, while

     under anesthetized trip
returning minus a mass of
     enlarged lymphatic tissue
     between the back of
the nose and the throat.