Open-Heart Surgery Poem by Mark Heathcote

Open-heart surgery, heaven, and hell
Open-heart surgery, poets and artists,
Writers of an ilk confess, bleat like a sacrificed lamb.
Cry like a newborn about to be drowned.

Open-heart surgery, a shepherd's sky,
Here's mud in your eye.
Oh, how I love you, darling, my Cherry Pie.
Let us drink this vintage till we both die.

Open-heart surgery, a broken windowpane
How do we mend and sew?
A hole in heaven and hell
Darn a hole in our soul, brand-new again.

Darling, I'll sing you like W.B. Yeats,
You know he came from County Sligo a long time ago.
Now that it's a tourist destination,
The cultural associations we share in our hearts and eyes.

It's open-heart surgery,
I'm happy to die under your mumbling words of joy.
Delirious as a skipping lamb,
I'm happy to die here in your arms, darling, your man.

A long time living, a long time gone.