Lucy M Logsdon

Something's Broken

You think you will get used

to the accumulation of loss,

(your spine, left hand, right foot,

twisted ribs), but your asymmetry

sharpens, crooks.  Something’s

broken inside, a sharp razor blade

rattling about, a loose screw, a wire crossed. 
The on 
switch turns everything off.

You can hammer your hand,

feel nothing.  Pain circuits require

repair; you require repair.

Behold the transformation.

You coin yourself: Electrician of My Body.

Order the tool belt, manuals, supplies.

A body rebuilt is a monster better.

This time, you’ll max that village out.

 

 

 

 

 

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ISSUE 94
Neptune

 

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