blood and bone
the first time they cut me open
i was 4.
do not remember why.
it left a scar
below my belly button.
a surprise smile
unseen in the dark
by lovers of the future.
I do remember
my father carrying me
down a bright whute hallway.
his free arm
pulled the i.v machine
alongside us.
A needle in my tiny arm.
The first of many.
13 years old.
twisted spine.
it was a mess
this mess
of mine.
The doctor said kindly.
‘we could make you perfectly straigh,
but it would kill you.”
So, they settled on straighter,
better than before.
a spine so rebellious
it tried to out grow me.
Run for the hills.
The hospital gown
was far too big.
The pre op meds
made it hard to keep standing
as my mother tied up the back.
Dad held my hand
as I hullucinated.
Beautiful golden spiders
crawling on the ceiling.
They were spinning glorious webs
of silver thread.
seven hours
ninety nine stitches
down my spine.
My parents went
to a movie.
Do not ask them
what they saw.
It sounds arrogant.
arrogant but true.
I have more back bone.
More back bone
than you.
They removed a rib
and grated bone from my hip.
So if bible stories are true.
I have more back bone
more back bone than you.