Mantz Yorke
Innerscape
Now through the fleshy wormhole,
the camera transmits to the monitor
an orange disk in the blackness of space.
Not arid Mars, for this planet is outside-in,
Its surface traversed by rivulets of red.
The probe scans this monotonous terrain
till it lights upon the target–
a small, off-white cumulus,
like bubbles blown by a straw.
A metal loop sweeps again and again
into the cumulus, shredding it into wisps
that quickly disappear,
then a ball rolling to and fro
cauterises the scar.
Purple eclipses the disk–chemo
infused to kill any malign residues.
Someone switches off the monitor:
the procedure is complete.
Numbed by a spinal block,
I’ve been able to see for myself
(so I don’t need to be told, post-oblivion)
the tumour’s been excised.
At last, the beginnings of hope.