by Jacob Edwards


through belly-button’s lock, the keyhole rotten
pandora’s music box plays undiminished
appendicitis knocking from within

what trojan salesman proffers me this contract?
if darwin were a doctor, stomach prodding
then pain would be his god, and morphine sin

a statue on the bathroom scales of fate
i stand and stare, aghast, a marbled slab
and weigh my heavy heart, my fulsome flab
who sacrificed the calves of yesterday?

now surgeon priests must carve through organs lame
and serve their ever-afters in a bag

as diets go, this surely takes the biscuit
spilled crumbs, redundant organs, pale green gowns

the yellow bricks turned jaundiced, kansas bound
while scarecrow gives the gormless box a tick
and tin man chooses caution, pumping thick
the lion’s fearsome roar now fearful sounds

i wonder if we’ll miss our shrunken pouches
where ceca sought permission to ungrow
or feel a phantom itch, the scalpel’s ghost
when holed-up holy spirit bags are outsourced
and darwin’s proxies stich me up, devout
my colon will persist, and i’ll go home