How he found her


He tells the legend

again, how they met

over the varsity

dissection table.

Did their hands touch?

Did he admire her

frown of concentration?

Did she call him

a buffoon, even then?

When did he know?

As he watched intently

her small fingers

peeled back the skin

and pinned it down,

exposing the muscle layer

then deeper to the organs,

pulling them out –

laying them on the table.

Go here for more Tuesday Poems.

(cross posted to Show Your Workings)

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