Tuesday, May 4, 2010

"Pincushion" (a poem)

One more needle.
Except it's never just one.
And the more they stick me, the harder it is to find a vein.
Nobody asks me how I feel.
And it's just as well.
The crucifixion was much worse, of course.
Bloodier, extended, thankless, seemingly futile.
If You can do it, maybe I can try?
How many holes will it take (Dylan/Beatles)??
It's all for the best.
I should be used to it.
Pierced with compassion, professionalism, indifference.
Pierced.
How DOES it feel?

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