Day After Day

Miserable still, though different,
the morning sun rose into sight.

Inside the hospital I was recovering
from a dailiness quite severe
something lost somewhere
or too much of me all around
or not enough.

Like medical Houdinis, the doctors
looked down, smirks
sealed into their sympathy

"If we asked you,
could you talk about this
more directly?"

maybe

             "Could you write it
in these margins?
Is it rhythmic?"

yes
            "Does it have sound?"

it has
repeating sounds, flashes and strikes.

             "It has two parts then,
the facts and the flow;
numbers and voices.
Would you like to make a recording?"

no

I’d like to make amythyst