Amputation by Mark Burgh

Gone. It’s gone. The bones glowed on the X-ray:

My fate diced my body, lost the last throw

Pushed the dimes & pennies across the felt,

Etherized, I lay on a bed staring

at lights before nothing enveloped me,

welcome, was it? That all encompassing

void? The unanswered question answered:

Here you are awaiting the saw like troops

Did in some black & white war. No whiskey,

a white pill and iv drip, no screams, bloodless.

What did for me? A nail or something pierced

My flesh, bloomed pus & pain. Nurses like

wry muses danced, wearing black, wailing

in my dream. It was no dream: my body knows.

Author Bio: Mark Burgh is a writer living in Fort Smith, AR, where he teaches. His work has appeared in numerous publications, and he has won over ten literary prizes, including national awards.