Bloodletting

this may hurt a bit, she warns
while anxiously i watch the black bile ooze forth
slowly
like sweet molasses
carefully
with the precision of a surgeon
she slits the left wrist
to cleanse the spleen she says
letting the humours settle back
at the gut-wrenching pace of a sea turtle
i never had the patience for tapestries
but the story, the story must be told
and so i am made bare
and tongueless
writhing with the pain of it
and waiting for equilibrium

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