OPERATION

You are carried in a basket, Like a carcase from the shambles, To the theatre, a cockpit Where they stretch you on a table.

Then they bid you close your eyelids, And they mask you with a napkin, And the anaesthetic reaches Hot and subtle through your being.

And you gasp and reel and shudder In a rushing, swaying rapture, While the voices at your elbow Fade--receding--fainter--farther.

Lights about you shower and tumble, And your blood seems crystallising -

Edged and vibrant, yet within you Racked and hurried back and forward.

Then the lights grow fast and furious, And you hear a noise of waters, And you wrestle, blind and dizzy, In an agony of effort, Till a sudden lull accepts you, And you sound an utter darkness . . .

And awaken . . . with a struggle . . .

On a hushed, attentive audience.