The first time I picked up the scalpel,
timid and apprehensive,
I poked myself reflecting
your dorsal dermis with squeaky cheese adipose and fascia.
The miniscule blade-prick was unalarming,
What a comfort to realize that some incisions could be painless.
The most difficult was hearing the electric saw,
razing through bone,
penetrating and retreating millimeters from your senses:
spinal cord, brain, and heart.
I feared that vibrating plate
as thin as a hair shaking your bones to dust.
As the only exception to never destroying a masterpiece,
made each exposure an unveiling,
where the days stretched and lasted onward.
Why were you so intent to share secrets of beauty?
I thought I saw it all,