“X is for… (dark)” (poem)

Anaesthetised skin
Yields to the surgeon’s blade

X marks

Delicate incisions, then
Spreaders force ribs apart

I am open on your table

Deft fingers sew up the life blood arteries.
Forget-Me-Knots staunch the flow

The heart withers,
A blackened hulk,
Starved of oxygen

Tired hands lose their finesse
As the final cuts are made

The heart, lifted clear,
Inspected,
Weighed,
Logged,
Set aside

Black blood gushes.
Pain fills the void.

New flesh grows, timidly
Rising like a bile-bathed phoenix

Needing fresh anaesthetic

heart

I’ve written two poems for the letter X – one dark, one light. You can find the lighter one here: https://altheauthor.wordpress.com/2015/04/28/x-is-for-light-poem/