by Victoria Korth

So crimped skin over a breast lump looks
to the poet in me, wood-burning done by an eleven
year old in a heated basement playroom, tattooed
orange peel, acid in the eye. We learn to describe:
marche a petis pas, rebound tenderness, pseudo-bulbar
affect, rosacea, scintillating scotoma, pill-rolling
tremor, referred pain, phantom limb, broken-hearted
syndrome, crush injury, muscles of mastication.
She shuffles, doubles over, cries for no reason, bears
a bloody finger, suffers unbearable loss, chews.
Simple acts with language peeled away; my language
exposing, yet distancing, the stinging parts.

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