Cut
Sleeping slit on bed of skin,
stubborn newborn eye,
he dreams of phantom pain,
a vein, a ruby sky.
The heart afar is calling him,
the beat repeats his name,
lull him with a hymn,
then daub his crusted flame.
He cries from sting of iodine,
edema is his kin,
hush away gangrene
that wakes to eat within.
His convalescence is betrayal,
the lid has now gone mild,
so kiss this mar farewell,
carve another child.
Marc Darnell is a custodian and online tutor in Omaha NE, and has also been a phlebotomist, hotel supervisor, busboy, editorial assistant, farmhand, devout recluse, and incurable brooder. He received his MFA from the University of Iowa, and has published poems in The Lyric, Rue Scribe, Verse, Skidrow Penthouse, Shot Glass Journal, The HyperTexts, Candelabrum, The Road Not Taken, Aries, Ship of Fools, Open Minds Quarterly, The Fib Review, Verse-Virtual, Blue Unicorn, and elsewhere. His latest book is The Sower from Cyberwit Press.
Grand Little Things 