A HOSPITAL HOLDS

Not only my bones
But also my spirit.
It actually argues
For my life
When the world
Wants to kick me
Out. I never thought
I could become so attached
To something so impersonal
But I have. The little more
I've become besides
Blood pressure & bowel movement's,
Blood sugars & restrictions,
Holds me & loves me
As close to humanity's breast
That life allows.
And while I admit
It's nowhere near
What I've always wished
To drown in, it will do--
It has to.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2020

FORENSIC ANTHROPOLGY

Found
under reams
& scraps
of paper
curling
at the edges,
yellowed,
and torn
haphazardly
and done over
centuries
from something
larger, perhaps
monstrous.
With much pain
I pieced it
together:
a poem:

WHA
T
Y
OU
D
O
to me
is some
thing
I can't
ex
plain--
so I
won't .
I only
know
how
my body
sings
&
how eac h
note settles
in tge
flesh.
You've gotten away with crimes of the heart.
You've taken my love without telling me
how.

Not bad,
I said,
to myself; almost
human.
Maybe
I could trace it
back
to a time
before
cruelty.
I will
put it
up
and study it
under
the light.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2015