By G. Murray Thomas
From his book, My Kidney Has Just Arrived
The doctor told me as I lay in pre-op prep.
I envisioned a special chartered flight,
an entire airplane filled with organs.
Hearts with little heart shaped carry-ons.
They always watch the inflight movie
and cry all the way through.
Livers splurging on one last drink;
they don’t think they’ll be allowed
where they’re going.
The lungs eye the spot
where the oxygen masks drop.
Corneas stare out at the passing countryside;
they always get a window seat.
The spleens are always complaining
about the length of the flight
about the lack of leg room
(although they have no legs).
The gall bladder always gets in line
before his row is called.
And there’s my kidney,
no doubt reading a book to pass the time
something classic: As I Lay Dying,
or Great Expectations,
or The Stranger.
All of them wondering
about the journey ahead,
about their new home,
about their new life.