Operation

You had surgery last fall, & kept it secret.
Rushed down an empty hall by draped scrubs
that didn’t need people to fill them.

Behind locked doors,
scalpel blades unzipped your chest
clasped by hollowed gloves.

They installed a skimmer just above your heart:
a necessity for you to live.

It all makes sense now—

Why you’ve been smiling more.
Why I always hear grimed pebbles rattling,
lodged deep in your throat when you laugh.

Danae Younge is a nationally and internationally recognized poet who is currently pursuing a BA in creative writing at Occidental College. Her work is published/forthcoming in Pulp Poets Press, Susquehanna Review, Vita Brevis Magazine, Palette Point, Rogue Agent Journal, Mason Street Magazine, and others. You can read more of Danae’s writing at www.danaeyounge.com and follow her on Instagram: @danae_celeste_