/merrillcole/

 

The pink prosthesis replaces

a limb

that isn’t missing. 

Would you turn away

if the marks weren’t stamped

on the warm body?  This map

won’t help you discover

hidden treasure.

Bones rot

somewhere, bleached out,

unloved.

 

“Peg leg” becomes a term

of endearment.  What relief

to hobble home

to the red city where no one

says your name.  Such hush-hush

lets you spell out, eyes

close to the little hairs,

all the ticklish words, what

you couldn’t lose or give away,

the voices that made

you tremble.

 

Poetic Diversity (November 2013).