At twelve, he carefully dismantled himself

Just to see what was inside, uniquely man

Fiber and vein end-to-end on wax paper

Like so many other junior science projects

They don’t award badges for deconstruction

Today, like a recommissioned magician

He performed the same surgery twice

Once to be sure he still could, from memory

Second to unclog her mercurial hairs

Bottles of wine and all secrets like prostrate

Lightening rods and superstition

This is how science progresses

Not with the glow of hope and love

But cold, ungodly, clinical reason

For who could ever love a broken boy