I Am Inside the Novice

the big gaping hole of him,

all guts blood and syrupy

slime; he is eager to stick to

almost anything. I whisper

to his insides “don’t be nervous”

but my voice sends propeller vibrations

through him, bouncing off his bowels,

as they knock around the lot of his

inverted body. I go to say I’m sorry,

I shouldn’t have said anything,

but I hear him say it for me instead. I hug

his colon, and all he feels is a cramp.

I ride the backwards waterslide

of blood right up to his cheeks

just to give him a kiss. He shifts

uncomfortably in an uncomfortable

chair. I can feel the heat of others

eyes on him, listening, or pretending

to. I try to listen too, but everything

he says is stuttered and blurred.

I want to tell him he is doing fine,

but I don’t know that to be true

either. I put a gentle hand on the left

ventricle of his heart, and he feels

the ripped-off band-aid of hope

envelop him once more. He knows

it will sting when I remove my hand.

I grab hold, try my best to never let go.

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