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