Back Under The Knife

img_3127

The man at the reception desk
tells us he doesn’t actually work here.
There are corridors within corridors,
stairs you have to go up
in order to come down,
my name lost in the system.
But there is also kindness
drawn with a black marker,
a sense that all this
has been done before.
After the needles and the stitches
and the reconstruction,
I will emerge hungry from my cocoon.
My wings tattooed with the start
of a beyond surgery.

Advertisements

One thought on “Back Under The Knife

  1. ………another heart hearing poem distilled from the reality of experience. You bring that experience right here Aoife,You appeared in my dream last night, sitting, talking warmly, brightly and this morning I am walking up these downstairs in your wake, hearing Kafka in your voice echoing in the corridors, Much love, many thanks,L-M

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s