let me lay my holy hand upon you
and soon the nettles
settle
and spin razor thin threads
around the very last smile-shaped cell
and the poison ceases to ooze up
from the floor of a wishing well
and the pulse that became an ache becomes a flutter and then
a last shudder and then
the antibodies are shunted forth from the swollen meat of the motor
and the venom is neutralized
like a stuck hand freed from a shoulder
and there is no hurt
there is no feeling
only a bloodless insistent
tradition of healing
About this entry
You’re currently reading “let me lay my holy hand upon you,” an entry on house of nezua
- Published:
- 11.12.08 / 1pm
- Category:
- poemas
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