by John Ashbery
as read in The New Yorker
the bruise will stop by later.
For now, pain pauses in its round,
notes the time of day, the patient's temperature,
leaves a memo for the surrogate: what the hell
did you think you were doing? I mean...
Oh well, less said the better, they all say.
I'll post this at the desk.
God will find the pattern and break