Is There a Doctor in the House? - a poem by Paul Goldman

The audience hushed as the red velvet

curtains pulled back. A collective

sigh was heard throughout the theater,

especially in the first few rows, fearful

of blood spatters and such- for you never

know when the next poet to rise upon

the stage, is going to ever so secretly

slash their wrists, before engaging mouth.

For with poetry, as with art, there are those

who feel they must out of some misspent

recollection of duty, bleed upon the canvas

or stage. I assure you that though I will shine

the light of the maker into the dark and grungy

places you have come here to expunge, I will not

be the one to shower you with bodily fluids.

...

Stay tuned to read this poem in its entirety later today on the Official Prose. Blog: blog.theprose.com/blog.