Then somehow the flesh got it wrong
Mistakes made at a genetic level
Irregularities in a system
More hit and miss than science
The ultrasound showed the tumour
A globule of impossibility
Dug deep in her breast like a tic
How do we deal with this?
Where is the magic? What is the trick?
In what kind of capricious universe
Does your own body set out to kill you?
Consoling silences and knowing glances
Only add to the tragic tableaux
If you do die you're a martyr
If you don't you're a survivor
Either way you are redefined
And in whose image are we re-made?
Some malcontent missing organs
Tongue, breasts, bowels and balls?
How do we go on living knowing
The original design has faults?
Should there be a worldwide recall
Of all imperfect humanoid life?
If so, we would lose a growth industry
And I would lose my dear wife.
© shaun patrick green 2013
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