Writing from the stemistry lab
Eulogy for a syringe
by Marilyn Longstaff
Honest prosthetic,
how my heart gladdens at your transparent reliability.
You dissemble not, nor need the means for arousal,
although your rubber seal QUIVERS a little
when sterilised gloves reach for your handle,
draw you out from your stainless steel dish.
Chosen above your scissor and cat-gut companions,
only you, lifted from sterile cushion,
your air-lock pushing in sucking out.
Nothing else can hold a candle
to your solidly plastic sheath,
your craving.