The Healing

Start on a gurney’s white, starched sheets and lay
how he says and show what he asks, and
his finger through tissue and fat digs
to tension and hurt pressure of healing.

End to a world tilted off.
Every sitting is how to sit?
Every standing is how to stand?
End to no comfort, no return.

Pray laying flat for pollutions
to block bent structures of body
through faith in acid alchemy.
Swallow, yet it scrapes proud pleasure.

Start on starched-white sheets
and wait for the healing to come.
The healing comes and the pain does not go.

End to a world tilted off,
not able anymore to be its slouch.
Stand at a slant, hip pinches straight.
Sit at a slump, leg pains to walk.
Walk head down passing the hidden
cowering in chemical ignoring
while numbness spreads from the crimping spine.
His finger is pointing.
Raise knowledge and pull straight strength
stabbed out of groveling
as if all these were merely flesh and bone.