Bad Medicine Poem by Nick Burbridge
Bad Medicine
The Moon Bear slips
into a nightmare
where they force
him to dance.
When he wakes
the barbed shunt
in his gall-bladder
bites and aches.
Under the cage
bile drips into
a tray, destined
for the phial.
Dancing would be
a kind of fate,
pit-fighting,
taking bait.
Here he drains, only,
wrestles his own pain.
His eyes close slowly.
No more trance.
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4/26/2024 5:31:09 PM # 1.0.0.1119
