Alternative
I never cared for my uvula.
You stop breathing sometimes.
Twenty minutes, the doctor said,
scalpel in hand.
(laser?) Cherry-picker. (cold laser?)
(lesions naturally absorbed)
Soft, your hands.
I have my moments.
(Delivering radiofrequency energy
submucosally
to the base of tongue)
Christ I want my life back.
Scott Hartwich lives in Bellingham, Washington with his spouse and two children, where he roasts coffee to make ends meet. He received his MFA from the University of Montana, and his work has appeared in journals such as Colorado Review, Cue: A Journal of Prose Poetry, Glitter Pony, and Bateau. He has work forthcoming in Thrush Poetry Journal and Brevity Poetry Review.
You stop breathing sometimes.
Twenty minutes, the doctor said,
scalpel in hand.
(laser?) Cherry-picker. (cold laser?)
(lesions naturally absorbed)
Soft, your hands.
I have my moments.
(Delivering radiofrequency energy
submucosally
to the base of tongue)
Christ I want my life back.
Scott Hartwich lives in Bellingham, Washington with his spouse and two children, where he roasts coffee to make ends meet. He received his MFA from the University of Montana, and his work has appeared in journals such as Colorado Review, Cue: A Journal of Prose Poetry, Glitter Pony, and Bateau. He has work forthcoming in Thrush Poetry Journal and Brevity Poetry Review.