hot water & cold slugs

by Rob Plath

the plumber fixed 

the hot water 

so the shower stall 

is no longer 

a torture chamber 

but the psychologist 

has the flu 

& canceled 

so no therapy today 

i got hot water 

but cold lead 

in my guts 

as i sauté garlic  

for broccoli rabe 

one fleck 

falls on the burner 

blackens & smokes 

i still can smell 

my flesh 

being cauterized

after the two biopsies 

in one day  

last month 

the doctor laughing 

when i asked

do you ever biopsy 

the soul? 

afterwards on 

the way home  

as pieces of me 

in vials 

are sent to a lab

i remember 

at 14 years old 

being shot 

when we played 

manhunt w/ pellet guns 

my shoulder bleeding 

& timmy saying 

i’ll heat my pocket knife 

& seal that up 

& i laughed 

w/ my oozing welt 

running deeper 

into the thick pines 

uncertain of fragments 

under my flesh 

& 41 years later 

i’m much deeper 

into the woods now 

shadows waist high 

as i sauté garlic 

alone 

w/ a core full 

of cold slugs 

waving smoke away 

in this tiny winter room

rob plath misses his cat Daisy. he hangs out w/ her ghost on his shoulder as he writes poems & paints & takes photographs . see more of his work at www.robplath.com