Out, Damned Spot! Poem by William F Dougherty

[The Crab Sonnets]

Out, damned spot! -Lady Macbeth

Back and forth, within a sheath, I glide
into the humming womb of a machine
that magnifies my lungs upon a screen
to fix the darkening spot that daily vied
to make me cough, and last time flatly lied
about the flecks of blood that streaked the green
forewarning sputum. The taste is obscene.
Deep breath. Hold it. Breathe. The dials inside
This deus ex machina fix my life.
The giant squints, and readjusts its span
to photograph the lesions and the strife—
knots like crab-crass that can buckle a man—
and show the surgeon where to press the knife
while I am deep in sleep. Or that's the plan.