Biopsy
A flaccid worm dangles
from the surgeon’s tweezers
barely pink when severed
from its natural habitat.
First time I see a segment
of my blood vessels.
The surgeon drops it
in a labelled bottle
the resident records
the procedure on my phone
I hold a mirror to check
what is done to my forehead.
New growth will occur,
Surgeon assures me.
I register the loss
in a one-night headache
later a pale line on my forehead
hinting at secret repairs
my body undertook.
Results of testing came back negative
leading me to wonder
how necessary the investigation.
But then, we never know
what does not hit us.
© Marie-Andree Auclair
Marie-Andrée Auclair is a Canadian poet whose poems have found homes in publications in
Canada, the USA, UK, Ireland, Australia and Japan. She enjoys hiking, photography, traveling
and adding to her cooking repertoire after each trip.
The Loch Raven Review 