Arsenic Lobster
poetry journal |
Issue Fifteen Winter 2007 |
|
Procedure Claudia Burbank There was much to be ashamed of. I hid the best I could behind a black pearl, Pictured, I think, a pinto pawing air. Why this should be I don’t know. I was still new to doctors then, their sniffing, pointing, Pushing through unsterile doors like tummlers. The scapular I wore until it rotted off Is the story of my life: spectacular Refusals to be left or to leave, the red Red plush of the obvious heart. I never saw them coming, but simply Awoke to dull knives, dull fire, linoleum. I have since relinquished Oxblood, scalpel, scalp. |
|
About Claudia Burbank |