Snuffled coughs

      and small creaks in the chairs

      did not disturb

      the surgean who

      intrigued the crowd

Performing for a circus

            minor heart transplants

      with chainsaws

            and popcorn oil

He juggled the organs

            like a master clown,

      As the spotlight

            melted his face paint

He can’t remember

            how to smile

But blood makes better paint

            (only if it clods)