I Am Inside the Novice
the big gaping hole of him,
all guts blood and syrupy
slime; he is eager to stick to
almost anything. I whisper
to his insides “don’t be nervous”
but my voice sends propeller vibrations
through him, bouncing off his bowels,
as they knock around the lot of his
inverted body. I go to say I’m sorry,
I shouldn’t have said anything,
but I hear him say it for me instead. I hug
his colon, and all he feels is a cramp.
I ride the backwards waterslide
of blood right up to his cheeks
just to give him a kiss. He shifts
uncomfortably in an uncomfortable
chair. I can feel the heat of others
eyes on him, listening, or pretending
to. I try to listen too, but everything
he says is stuttered and blurred.
I want to tell him he is doing fine,
but I don’t know that to be true
either. I put a gentle hand on the left
ventricle of his heart, and he feels
the ripped-off band-aid of hope
envelop him once more. He knows
it will sting when I remove my hand.
I grab hold, try my best to never let go.
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