Pat Daneman
On Waking from Surgery
Pat Daneman
On Waking
from Surgery
After the knife, the drill, a body does nothing
surprising—as if flesh is bread, generous,
hot. Music is silver, the sky a pearl,
blood stays snared like lightning inside
a radiant yolk. In the mirror of sleep,
fingers starved, mind full, feet not flayed
hounds but words of ancient prayers
in shoes of stained glass. A body must believe
it will unlock again—truth knitted into new stitches,
breath like spiraling silk over the flesh of a queen.
So—to life, for being
mother and child.
To rain. Snow.
To this day,
for bringing
tomorrow.
Pat Daneman’s poetry is widely published, most recently in Mid-American Review, Naugatuck River Review, Potomac Review, and Poet’s Touchstone. Her full-length collection, After All, was first runner up for the 2019 Thorpe-Menn Award and a finalist for the Hefner Heitz Kansas Book Award. She is author of a chapbook, Where the World Begins, and co-librettist of the oratorio, We, the Unknown, premiered by the Heartland Men’s Chorus. She lives in Candia, NH. Find her at patdaneman.com.
Featured in:
Red Rock Review
Issue 52