God, beautiful God your savior voice converges from every direction but your deafening song, adrift in a thousand siren winds, carries flickers of fear to my spread-open operating table self
how those hands work! forcep fingers draw red lines and pluck out the worms once planted by ache
casting aside swathes of skin and blood-slick baubles of silver, you pull out my pearls and put me back together
crossing my burgeoning breast are threads of saintly white my paragon body immune to pain and love alike
when Eve ate the apple she did it every day to keep the blessed doctor away