The Constipated Life

Nearly strangulating
rectal prolapse
for him, fun for
the emergency room

Sky high
rapid pulse, a drum
beat call for EKG

She’s outraged;
who can do an EKG
with hairy chest,
gets a razor
to soothe
her pique,
feels better shaving
pasting electrodes
everywhere

Lying on right side
pulls down bloody pants
intestines inside-out

Interns can’t
push it back in

Strangulated? No
look at the color

Wait,
wait for doom
hangout in the
time-lapse room

He’s a mistake. His
quests have been
in vain, success
as jest on rocky roads,
obstructed ideas

Into the bowels of the hospital
he’s admitted
by wheelchair, by elevator
with IV bag on shoulder

The entourage
and Specialist
reached behind
the naked subject

The audience
have their gloves
and wide eyes

Some are sent away
to retrieve an anesthetic, but
the doctor can’t wait

The Specialist shoves with gloves
a push, a twist, hears the
slipping out growl and grunt and moan,
says breathe through
the mouth, proceeds
says we don’t want gangrene

The final push is performed.
It’s in.

The constipated life
a comic error

He’s afraid to go
ever again
—- Douglas Gilbert
(Henry Le Châtelier)

Poetry Books By Douglas Gilbert

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