India

MAN, STATION PLATFORM




Put your stomach
back in. That's what
I was thinking.

Though not exactly the
stomach, per se, I
meant the large and

small intestines. Put
them back in; I
don't wish to see them.

I'm not a doctor, a
surgeon. Don't have
x-ray vision. They

hung outside him
(I think he was
supporting them with

a bent arm: rather
gentle, like I held
a sparrow chick

once when it
fell from the nest.)
The colour was

ripe. Pink through to
crimson, whitish
coils of grey

blubber. They
moved like so many
snakes writhing

together. Orgiastically
wound around other
pipes of dull

tripe. Put your
stomach back in.
That's what I was thinking.