Rufous priests cedartaller, ancestors Irish pirates, summoning cancers
Blisters boils weeping pus, shaking hands lances them
Bubbling bubos, those waiting shaking so fit to burst
Stretched convex dome palm’s width pus-filled
Dead skin cells which could neither escape nor be ingested, thence slow green marking infection
Wound fresh flesh tender still, it is better to have it out than in
Needled, alighted carriage slides down illy any limb like afterbirth windowcast.
Lancing the sick, who drip horridity into tinctures taken for testing purposes in hopes of parsing out cures
Element contains the whole so the wound’s extolations, though painful, may be strained by chemiolations to a panacean medicine
Not taken from duty by daydream, giving father’s care to each patient
Some die, yes, and their lives sacred but more sacred those saved
Salving naked chests, washing the dead, rubbing blood away
Sponge-scrubbing redbreast, like a pieta honed to Apollo.
One cut it loudly utters its curses
Guttering out, pus coursing by litres
Extravasates its worst, slouching out first in burst of grey green
Once assailed, blood squirts drowning the lancet
Those long low lain who lost bulk, near wasting away
Regained handsomeness at his hand, in his healing house.
Confusion like that which Set stirs amongst curs due scourging, who rudely incurred into crypt-floored Egypt
Sands ancient even to Thoth bird-visaged, who saw a flood of revenge ravage and pillage Atlantis.
Alchemisland 
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