HYSTERICALECTOMY

By Jilly Johannsen

The first time I saw it hung on an IV pole; a bag of endometrichunk

With little handles and a whatsit dripping down

A scene from The Carnivore’s Corner in town

And all that was missing was the sawdust

And - floored - my husband blanched

As a man with white dairy boots hanked it back in

And sewed me up.

And our sweetest twins mewled and smelled of soap, fresh bread, and milk.

Some years later, tired of its bulking, inspissated and bleeding, We chopped it out, this time for good.

I say ‘we’

Hacked out the roots

Tarped the kudzus

Stanched the minor fireworks, aches, and rheum

And in the enargeia of the surgeon’s room, his princely head

By mine, I become my own shrine,

And I am newly- born from myself and smell of soap, fresh bread, and milk.

#darkpoetsclub