Issue 131 |
Winter 2016-17

A Girl’s Guide to Vivisection

Pull hair from your head:

He loves me.

Pull nails from your fingers, from your feet,

like pulling teeth.

Pull teeth.

He always could

make you scream. Your navel, neck:

once whiskey-licked, now

ghost-towned.

Cast them off.

He loves me not.

Drag your legs around & beg:

Remember me. But this dissembling

is your own

invention.

You always wanted to be character:

orphan girl, femme fatale. Heroine, riding bare

back & white-hatted. Re-

member me.

Attach again my arms & legs,

my head.

You can’t remember

what he said,

& it’s the only question on the test. You blank-

paged.

You unravel.

You’re just an earlobe now, listening,

just tongue & two lips, whispering—

loves me,

loves me not

words to fill the space of want

some body left behind.