Human Dissection (Happy Halloween)

Sure, ghoulish work,
but cut open any one of us,
grab your lab spatula, blunt probe and clipboard —
note the vitals:

look, some parts are pink as health itself,
like the sonic blooms of azaleas
galloping through spring;

others are half-baked and bloodless,
windblown-dry, crinoline stiff,
from years of howling
about absence and desire;

some shine, vermilioned, red-winged
from years of rising in any weather,
to the integrity of daily labour;

others are seared from staring into the sun for signs,
or tremulous, listening to soundless dark
in the compline of countless nights;

some parts are grey as clay, recalling days when joy
was turned away, for fear of its natural leaving;
some are even galled green like Shylock’s gizzard,
fighting old wars of grudge and glory;

yet others gleam a redeeming crimson,
those moments of humanizing conversation
with Lacy, who panhandles by the 7-11,
and Jay, whose mind is full of abandoned lines,
justifiably unable to be thankful
for the coffee you offer;

still others rejoice in ruby, the precious tanglement
of a caring family, others erupt rose red,
those times when misery’s lonely beast was hobbled,
by the luminescent love of a sturdy friend;

and the balance? tutored through grief and loss,
still glow coral-pink and sing
of the mornings you left your room,
felt your way outside, taking only
your blindness and your hope.