what They can see inside of me that I can’t?
all my organs have changed into produce— my heart become an apple,
my stomach a winter squash.
Maybe my intestines
have crocheted themselves an afghan?
Maybe I am abuzz with honeybees, or pregnant with a litter of puppies.
Maybe I have six extra chakras
(does that even show up on a PET scan?)
Maybe my blood has vaporized into a pale violet gas.
has sprinkled itself across my internal sky
like stars embroidered in the black galactic fabric?
While I wait by the phone
for the medical soothsayers to reveal myself to me,
the condition of my mind must be mine.
I can’t make it depend on what they find.
I and only I know the words of my own story.
This poem is copyrighted by the poet and is included in the Healing Circles Global poetry wiki because it provides insight, nourishment, and inspiration to the hosts and participants of healing circles. We request that hosts and participants honor the poet’s copyright by not printing or sharing it in any other way. In fact, please support the poet’s work by purchasing the book in which this poem was originally published: This poem is not published anywhere. Printed here with the permission of the poet.