POST
OP
By
William
Goldsmith, MD
August 7, 2003
Time's
anesthesia worked for me at last
The keloid scarring of her loss endured
What seemed eternal misery is past
However I am not completely cured
Time's
intravenous flow has cooled away
All but a trace of passion's happy heat
The midbrain might as well be made of clay
The sullen heart just condescends to beat
Somnambulistic
day to neutral night
No appetites that I must satisfy
OK, OK, I've given up the fight
Not glad to live, but then, not sad to die
Any
operation takes its toll
Love's extirpation numbs the soul.
