April 3: Poem 3

It was during surgery
to scoop a tumor from my brain
that the archangel in robes of white
with bare arms and luminous head
carved into my cranium
with a mystic blade.

I saw him.

Revelation explains
servants of God 

have foreheads sealed.

So when the doctors tell me 
they can fill in that hole,
I politely decline.

Because I'd rather live in metaphors.

Notes:

I like free verse poetry, but I really wanted this one to have a more specific meter. I struggled with it for a while today, and this was the best I could get to. After yesterday's poem, I knew this moment had to be next. I would love a few more days with this, but the classic 'it is what it is' kicks in here.