by Tsipi Keller


Post-op she is laid out on a white pillowed bed, so pure, says the nurse, so virgin-like, maybe a corpse, though breathing.

The patient lies between them. Like a shroud, she wants to add, but lacks the need. She knows there are two of them, two nurses, hovering over her bed like…angels? She wonders why they discuss her like this, possibly aware that she is awake.

Even her feces, the nurse whispers. So delicate, so beige-like, like a puppy's, or a newborn's.

Finally - the patient thinks. Nearly good enough to eat.



Copyright 2007 by Tsipi Keller