Biopsy

    by Diana Cole

Arms stretched out

my body strapped.

A blue mask hides her mouth,

but the eyes, kind,

calibrate my right breast.

A coolness flows up my vein.

I am drawn down.

Last night I held this small

pomegranate in my hand,

its calyx hard to the touch

but so whole, so unhurt.

Who could imagine inside

its membranes

its vascular pulp

an oval sac for each seed

and that it could bleed so

when cut into.

© 2011 Diana Cole

Diana Cole’s poems have been selected for publication by numerous journals including Sahara, Blueline, the Tipton Poetry Journal, The Aurorean, The Christian Century, The Chaffin Journal, Slipstream, and Avocet.  Her poem, “Though I Walk,” set for double chorus by Thomas Stumpf, won the Pharos Music Project’s award and was performed in New York City.

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