‘Exchange’ and Other Poetry by Damian Robin The Society May 24, 2013 Poetry Exchange They go to take the heart of you, mark your skin & cut you through. With silk knives, their sharp skill connives to stroke apart flesh & lives. In surgic- al masks, they’ll unpick the atoms gods had made stick until your profitable or- gan is isolated more & taken to a precise en- trance in another human. From large batched statistics they’ve matched your good part to be detached. You’ve been chos- en: & when thread sews you shut & again blood flows through your heart, your heart will restart as a stranger’s body part & where your heart was will burn/cure in an incinerator. Note: written regarding the harvesting of organs from Falun Gong practitioners in China today. Social Mores: Not Icebreaking She’s fifty; lives in the West; has just read how, in China, it’s easy to be dead – (the State helps) – industrial accidents (that spill out of factories); the contents of rivers (where bloated pigs bounce around and unchecked landslides and land mines are drowned); the elements (foul air, sun shine); city, road, farmer deaths; death of morality; the killing mask of State propaganda, State face; etcetera; etcetera; all found easily on the internet and set off for her by a blue leaflet handed out near someone doing qi gong in the street. (She knows it was Falun Gong.) In the pale of a basement coffee bar, she is patient to let rest come to her. She has done enough googling of despair for one day. It’s taken its toll on her. Off-white, ceiling light circles warp to dull, muffle-volumed melodies; lyrics lull and mingle with the conversational – not eaves-dropping, it’s unintentional, her listening is unavoidable, her neighbours’ roundtable, free-range pickle: euthanasia’s not unpleasant deaths; abortions: stir in the same sugared breaths. Three young men wear earrings; one young woman wears jeans like skin. It seems they’re Christian, or pupils on a course on religion, ethics or philosophy, or so on, getting down to work after discussions of mutual friends’ gauche indiscretions. She feels old as she makes mental judgments on their clothes, their friends, and their arguments. But she won’t lean in with “the CCP” or its deadening “one child policy.” That act would crack coffee diplomacy unless she was hip, charming, or funny. And if she went on about harvesting organs … wouldn’t that break something … ? Damian Robin is a poet living in the United Kingdom. Featured Image: “Organ Crimes” by Xiqiang Dong (en.falunart.org) NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.