Saturday, December 21, 2013

My 8 year-old self holds a heart

After scrubbing elbows to nails, Mom gowned
and gloved me. Through swinging doors I saw
every body but his, cloaked in blue. On his back: eyes taped 
shut, penis halo'd in dark hair, the smell of sterility
and iodine, his ribs pried open and inside him-- a hollow
large enough for several sparrows. Just tall enough to see
and reach up, then over, then down into the hollow
with my right hand, his heart slick and pink as the inside
of a swollen cunt. Was his spirit hovering as this child
reached inside him, cupped his heart in her palm to the sound
of Led Zepplin on the radio? Did he wonder, who was this girl-
child hovering, reaching inside him--doing as she was told. 

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