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blood and bone

June 28, 2014

the first time they cut me open

i was 4.

do not remember why.

it left a scar

below my belly button.

a surprise smile

unseen in the dark

by lovers of the future.

 

I do remember

my father carrying me

down a bright whute hallway.

his free arm

pulled the i.v machine

alongside us.

A needle in my tiny arm.

 

The first of many.

13 years old.

twisted spine.

it was a mess

this mess

of mine.

 

The doctor said kindly.

‘we could make you perfectly straigh,

but it would kill you.”

 

So, they settled on straighter,

better than before.

a spine so rebellious

it tried to out grow me.

Run for the hills.

The hospital gown

was far too big.

The pre op meds

made it hard to keep standing

as my mother tied up the back.

Dad held my hand

as I hullucinated.

Beautiful golden spiders

crawling on the ceiling.

 

 

They were spinning glorious webs

of silver thread.

seven hours

ninety nine stitches

down my spine.

My parents went

to a movie.

Do not ask them

what they saw.

It sounds arrogant.

arrogant but true.

I have more back bone.

More back bone

than you.

They removed a rib

and grated bone from my hip.

So if bible stories are true.

 

I have more back bone

more back bone than you.

 

 

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