My Memories Deprive Me

All these foreign objects 
Hauled around with me;
Produce in a paper bag,
Unwanted groceries.

Grape seed at the bottom,
Unsafe in my hands;
My bills have been forgotten,
No warranty for glands.

My memories deprive me,
Though always looking back;
Myself behind me I can see,
Picking up my scraps.

The Empty Chest

My heart is the shape
Of the hidden parts
Of Hobart, underground,
Where organs were first
Blueprinted in secret.

In my formative days
Training as a registrar
In unrequited love
I marvelled at Nature,
How it compacts with

Discipline, (Mr.Jobs proved
Something similar when he
Jettisoned a prototype
Into his gourami tank and
Oxygen bubbled, perfidiously),

Meticulous contraptions
Unrelenting, without
Revisions but always
Winning, passing exams,
The questions it set.

If only the Hippocratic
Students had seen
Where Kindness ducts
And Goodness bled,
Glands of Compassion,

Instead of nephritis
Riddled kidneys,
Lung diseases,
Heart bypasses
And an empty chest.