"Aortic Valve "
Between finger prick and pain,
after elevator ding and before ribcage-
door slides open, bumble bees
rumble in her father’s stomach,
unicorns fly with cows
amidst ducts and pipes
behind ceiling tile.
He dreams of diving in the river,
how the waterline passes
along his plunging passage;
how it feels each time
he unhooks his wife’s bra.
The masked conductor raises his razor,
stabs the silence of science,
directs the dancing gods and elves,
stops the heart while the bypass feeds his body
like a freeway surrounds urban decay.
This is not the razing of buildings
and concrete renewal. No, this is all
the trees on all the streets
blooming the spirit of spring
during one winter’s night.
In the test patience room, the patient’s
daughter feels him trickle away
when the muscle stops, wills him back
even though he is brain-alive.
She’s unconvinced of how slow light
travels, skeptical of the conservation of energy,
unsure bypassed death is the same as life:
quite sure this stainless baton does more
than direct the beat of her father’s time.
© 2005 Steve Williams
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