9 DIFFERENT KINDS OF DOCTOR Poem by Marianne Morris

Last week it was CONVINCED that the World Trade Center had been detonated by the US government. Fire aflame the face, horse nostrils, am I a host of nothing? So precious wandering. The morning has this intention behind it which is continually interrupted by my hand reaching for Internet, so long to those specific magical arrangements, drowned in exposure, but I am in the dark room, the light is so sparse, I've given up thinking about sex, the flowers are gone now but seeds arranged in their place, organised into symmetries, shake them out into the earth. Birds will be mad at me. But none of those flowers grow, know how to grow. The fact of things not going well is stamped out in a lung full of smoke, which wakes me in the early morning, before I am ready, and is dry, and is haunting. I think I have taught myself prosody, which means I have cut narrative out of myself like a hole, which reopens again and again at the doctor (9 different kinds of doctor 1) witch doctor, 2) plant doctor, 3) needles doctor, 4) other needles doctor, 5) speculum doctor, 6) DRUGS DOCTOR IS MY FAVORITE 7) judgy doctor, 8) intuitive doctor, 9) doctor underground). But each one of them has a story, just tells it either through me or against me, and the answer is going to be that I feel better, even when I don't, even when the wound reopens