The Ninth and Final Hole

I began with nine obvious holes in me

Nine liaisons with the universe

I hope to leave humanity

With no more, in my hearse

.

There are two for catching drumbeats

Tympanically delivered

From a world of broken heartbeats

Before I'm umbilically scissored

.

Four holes I have are front and near

Two that breathe my share of air

Two that leak my salty tears

All on my face, in pairs

.

One multitasks with taste and suction

Where both my needs and wants shall meet

And compensatory eruption

When overindulging the Teat

.

There's one ending vermiform

Between my legs—a clue—

How when it grows up, it'll fusiform

And corkscrew more holey people, too

.

One hole that's mercifully rendered

Alleged a one-way street conducted

Delivers me truly open-ended

Without it, imperforate, obstructed

.

Extra holes are dangerous

They bleed or gape or drain

Bodily fluids that raise a fuss

'Cause you won't get 'em back again

.

Knives and bullets and pointed sticks

End in alien fenestrations

Stabs and impaling sudden pricks

Render mortal alterations

.

At the other end of my holy life

I pray I ride my final trip

In my hearse to my afterlife

Unaltered, in nine-holed ownership