"Doctors" by Jeanette Powers

 

the mold covers my moist parts
stonely I sat on the thorn
too long
bled too completely
my red stuff making
unnaturally its exodus
the diaspora
from my meat
and bones
I bleed
my heart beats too fast
my insides revolt and stage
revolutions
their
leaders
bearing flags bearing
the name disease

who is this stranger
eating me from within
carving up my organs
for the flesh grinder?

and how do I stage a coup?