Nuclear Radiology, 6th Floor

Elisa Duncan


I wonder
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.


maybe cancer
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.



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