Spilling Truth
These blatant lives poets lead
with their guts hanging out,
gore hid between beautiful words.
I remember (after the failed surgery),
when guts spilled out of my actual body;
that unwinding of blank verse uncoiling
in a slow slime of sincerity.
The hectic rush to the operating room again,
the gurney screeching on polished floors,
guts still leaking from under a latex glove.
A poem revealing itself,
speaking beautifully at last.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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