Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Final Issue 2018
Carolyn Divish

With coarse palms
flattened against
fat–sleek flesh,
I seek my contours.
Pleasing in both
sight and texture–
barely forgotten,
ghost of remembrance.
Fingers probe
a canyon gash–
the place
where someone
once had been–
round face,
green stick youth,
skater bowl fringing
mismatched eyes.
My nail scratches,
the frayed edges
of plasma mesh–
wincing at its release
of loss revived,
exploring the depths
of blood unbound.
And then
with brightly colored markers
and fine-gauged crochet,
I dress that scab up nicely
and send it out for sale.

About Carolyn Divish

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