Martins Deep

A PLEA TOWARDS HEALING

After chemo, i'll kiss & kiss this scab on my shin,
till it opens, to reveal

the ovule in the wound. I'll kiss the ovule,
pollen of birdsong studded on my lips.

I'll let the trail of red float me
to the place Jacob wrestled with an angel.

"Touch my hands," i'll ask of him

"Touch my hands till, like petals, they open
to drink firstlight."

"Make of this wound a larva
where i'll be reborn, blooming aubades
in my mouth"