by Carol Berg
The text from the endoscopy center asks
how was my experience? Was my colonoscopy
excellent, good, average, or poor? Everything
is up for rating. How am I to know
the pathway of my colon—smooth and silky
or a bumpy ride, like driving over a dirt road
during construction? I wish my insides to be
as juicy and ripe as a cantaloupe picked at its
summer’s peak. But my cousin has bladder cancer
and my uncle is getting a pace-maker.
Somewhere inside of me must be the start
of my own death, some little seed germinating,
my warm blood the nutrient needed for death’s
weird white root to take hold.
Carol Berg (she/her) is a Writing Tutor at Pine Manor College. She lives in Massachusetts with her husband, son, dog, three cats, and the many outdoor woodpeckers that hang out in the lovely Asian Dogwood tree outside her kitchen nook. She is an avid birdwatcher.
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