My husband’s investigative determination to pluck an infuriating & seemingly invisible splinter from my finger: With tweezers, duct tape, paring knife, table lamp heroically unsheathed from its shade filling the kitchen with a whorling blade of reassuring light, I dissolve into the hands of who, just who is this surgeon before me so gloriously obsessed, the love throbbing in this room is a monad, indivisible, unreal, sourceless. O! Operator, dearest operator!

Alison Schweikert
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