Asterixis

by R.C. Blenis

The liver thinks yellow thoughts.
Ask anyone in hepatic failure—
blood becomes philosophy,
ammonia scales the brain
until Tuesday tastes purple,
until yesterday wakes tomorrow.
The body keeps calendars.
My hands knew first: flutter
to tremor, morse code tapping
against the porcelain sink;
my mouth on mute, fingers
spelling. Even severed:
phantom hands still sign
in air, in ache.

R.C. Blenis is a nurse and educator writing from Atlanta. His poetry and prose have appeared or are forthcoming in The Massachusetts Review, JAMA, River Teeth, Fourth Genre, and West Trade Review, among others. More at rcblenis.com and @hillbillypilgrim.