Ultrasound

Listen, we are human beings.

We are given to love

and there is no other war

quite like it. We fail,

and flail and fall, and will,

with a life lived well,

with every organ speared.

Inside you are continents

that pulse. They don’t need

your help too much. They dance

as you sleep, in the chilled out rhythms

of a lava lamp. During an ultrasound,

belly gelled, you may not even recognize

the liver, the pancreas, your own aorta,

the same way you aren’t sure

if Myanmar is near Thailand or India.

It all looks like the Aleutian islands to you,

all coral reefs and volcanic ranges,

borders unguarded. You could use

the comedy of a sea otter, but imagine

eruptions only.

The tactics are to fend off any attack,

to win, always to win, or at least get out

with only the loss of some vision.

Your health consultant for today

has set her sights on this dark region

over on the left, which could be a lake,

or the tar pits. Please take a deep breath in

and hold it, she says and you can think

of nothing but exhalation, the explosion

of air released from the lungs.

Hold and release.

Retreat and advance. 

You belong to a clan 

but someday a foreigner

may ask to carry you from one land

into your next. Let them.