metamorphosis

Brca 2

Nothing more than a ghost within a ghost*

Bloodstained boots
carry me through doors
into rooms I am afraid
to enter.
Ancestors follow
marked by heredity
generation after generation
at the mercy of their cells.

* Long Day’s Journey Into Night, Eugene O’Neill

In the Bed

Bag of morphine hangs
above my head.
Arms legs itch
uncontrollably.
I mash the button
over and over until
head drops
a marionette
controlled by circling
white coats. No one sees
the missing breasts.
New ones took their place.

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looking in the mirror at the Mayflower Hotel

As your arms wrap
tightly around me,
I wonder if your face
has the same expression
when you hug
your wife
after French toast
with powdered sugar.

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Pit Bulls, Valium, Ira Glass, and GW Parkway

My drive into DC on December 1, 2012

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understanding

Hold my hand so that we may move in ways that are unknown and difficult to comprehend.

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Damage Control

I know a man who lives
outside the bounds
while claiming
loyalty to his wife;
a place where speech
is silver, silence golden-
only a matter of time
’til the next tree falls.

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becoming

I have never felt more whole than now, despite coming through a year in which my body has been cut into multiple times and parts have been removed.

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dog days

Image

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