i wake in a different body being less than i was emptied out through the bloody keyhole my old home / my new home the same / not the same i dis/solve wide shingle skies / speckled walkways where charcoal-crushed violets fizzle black silt flaking / spiky connective tissue books shelved / dust heavy / … Continue reading post-op (after the hysterectomy in anaesthetic fog) by Jane Ayres