Untitled (First Draft):

“Your brain is lovely,” he says, holding it up to the light,
and all you are left with is nothing and teeth that chatter.
This is what happens when you are ill.

Your voice is gone and even the window is a gaping mouth.
“Bless you and your life,” he says while performing the rosary in front of you
and you must watch while he cuts off your hands and,
dear God,
if you stop him he will hold up your spine to the light and break it.
This is what happens when you are ill.

This is what happens when you are ill.


Note: The line spacing kind of got screwed up when it posted on the blog.