And then you’re in an operating room,
Staring deep
Into a stellate smash of livid liver.
It oozes discontinuous destruction.
Fragments of hepatic mush are strewn
And coddled among clots of blood,
Stained with bile and mixed with stool.
The beauty of the enzyme pathways is nowhere to be seen;
Dr. Krebs is not in the building.
Weak indeed is the capsule holding it all in,
split apart like broiled bratwurst.
How little it takes!
(From Dr Schwab’s Brittle Beauty. Submitted by Jim)
Verbatim Poetry 