O for a tale to tell

O for a tale to tell

your comments leave me feeling cold.
"what's with you and...?"
when, ever, has there been a story?
you haven't known me long enough
to know that never. never yes.
already I am sorry for
the time when you'll stop asking.

The Surgeon

The Surgeon

you’ve staunched the bloodflow of my words
a tourniquet of sour surprise
I know I shouldn’t feel betrayed
but still I feel a twist of steel
that chills the muscles of my spine
here in your operating room
you’ve cut away the flesh and skin
denuded me with glaring lights
discovered secrets murder-deep
and having seen what was to see
my naked form spread wide with pins
you sutured shut with reckless grace
the ragged edges of the seam
I woke to find the brand new scar
incised as by your quick brown eyes
you are a surgeon with your words
with knives as sharp as sweetened lies
and with the mask across your face
that razored edge is in your gaze
your anesthesia clouds my mind
confounding rational command
as one by one the stars shine out
in deepening night behind my eyes
in one last flash of light I see
the sunset glinting in your hand