dana

 

 

 

I can smile like a super hero. No, I am far too colateral for that. Too graben, bounded on one

side by flesh faults. One foot larger than the other, two sizes larger in fact.

 

The room fills with my bigger foot before the light from the grand stage shusses down. Before

the light from the pearl essense, with lacquers and plastics light the flat face. I mean,

 

look at me. The Pearl Harbor me, whose green and brownish eyes came without warning.Not

the haute fashion of a shaved torso. (?)

 

I was sick once.

It was a hassle to breath. I was monogramed and labled for the tag. I recall one nurse saying and

another nurse repeating the name on the wristband; the furosemide, cold room call and

 

response, blues of sickness. The attendant, in a montone, washed my body and prepared my white

blood for the cure. I woke up, cut on and damaged, wrapped like the cloake of the monteiths

 

swollen wood with the same scalloped hem, begging for another hour. But another day came instead.

Another week with another few raised blades.

 

I am an open field now. My pear ovary has ripened into the pod containing oil. It was futile to

pot mark the wall as renature of original reds.

 

The fig tree in my aunties yard in estrus, I still live with another persons blood;

the sceptered sovereign of authority.

Reviews

[Emily B]

you are a super hero

no doubt about it