Teratomatous: Look It Up Poem by Max McGovern

Next to a teratomatous growth
Little bright angels play and heal.

I asked, assembled them
Bid my folks farewell
Collected contact information
And quietly convened with friends
Until the passing hour.

There was a call,
An obligation
A vociferate force.
No actual body
To give up the hearing.
Something jumped into my stomach
While I was lucid dreaming.
It might have been the schnock demon
Coming to work on his masterpiece again.
What a terrible tumor it was.