A tender poem, Max. I feel if you could do the surgery for her, you would,
as lovingly and as carefully as the tomato slicing. Good luck to her from
all of us. Andrew
On 2 February 2011 08:57, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Tomato and Philtrum
>
>
> Slicing tomatoes I think of my wifeıs
> hospital date one morning soon.
>
> Professor Morrison plastic surgeon
> whose long fingers I admired last week
>
> when I sat by her in his room
> will attend to the tiny cancer
>
> just visible now between nose
> and upper lip (hers gently shaped
>
> as a cupid's bow). He taught us the word
> philtrum: dimple between two pillars.
>
> This he will slice with care
> removing a small circle, mending it
>
> with skin from near her ear.
> His respect for her philtrum
>
> seemed that of an artistıs
> for my wife's creator's work.
>
> Philtrum, she tells me later,
> is where an angel visited
>
> the unborn in the womb leaving
> secrets of heavenly pre-existence
>
> sealed by the angelıs touch.
> Friday it goes under the knife.
>
> My hand is steady, knife sharp - pierces
> tomato skin; cuts out the green stem-circle.
>
> Sun-red flesh yields itself to me.
> Professor Morrison has pale skin
>
> as if never exposed to the sun.
>
> Max Richards
>
--
Andrew
http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
'Mother Waits for Father Late' republished available at
http://www.picaropress.com/
http://www.qlrs.com/poem.asp?id=766
http://frankshome.org/AndrewBurke.html
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