study on a girl with a syndrome

go on.

make my thighs the same

begin with neat precision.

scalpel on skin. no blood

i should be asleep,

but the fingers working                         

& if you open my left thigh

you’ll see the face of my great

the medical students will come to witness

and groan like prophets.

with gritted teeth behind 

a mask you’ll seal the prayer taut

hope that it is enough. 

hope to god that it is enough. 

after you whispered

it was perfect

you smiled, waved 


is long & already

my stretcher is rolling

or a similar


only water 

like how they said i was born.

on my body, they

have memories of other bodies

grandmother, brown & grand. 

wicked with knowing.

wield pens & scrape blue crosses 

over their notes.

with sutures black and ripe 

enough to pick. 

i remembered lazarus after i pretended 

to wake up. 

like the pull and snap 

                                                         of gloves

but the time is

sterile & the queue

out the room