My Son, an Intern, Shows Me an X-ray of a Patient’s Lungs

And I see air pockets

stranded in pond-ice

after a hard freeze.

I see the lake breathing,

the algal bottom releasing

methane bubbles –

The bones of the thoracic spine

bend with what is carried.

The right lung is occluded –

the milky shade of slush.

There is still one deep pool

of black ice in the left lung

large enough to reflect a star.

There is still one well of hope.

I ask my hope to ferry me

down – down – a water lily

tuber rooting in the void.

I think of the hole

god made in Adam’s

side, that maelstrom

from which we are plucked –

toward which we go.