Evolution

Evolution short poem

Photo by h.koppdelaney

I guess the first real cuts were more than they needed to be
the number of times I’d twirled the blade constructing
stillborn balsa skeletons, stegosauri and plesiosaurs
always amputating a rib or femur by accident, preferring
to leave them undone rather than crippled, all to give
my parents something to approve, a hobby to be done
at the kitchen table in full view of everyone, even if
it was rather a boyish pursuit, there I’d be shaving splinters
off a near-smooth pubis when I’d drag the sharp tip over
my knuckles drawing a bloodless furrow, shallow, nothing
to worry over, then in science while I was supposed
to be coloring in a diagram of a shield volcano, I’d borrow
a little magma red and trace my cold wrist veins hot, again
no harm, just another line on my body, impermanent, steady
and if I took a picture and sent it to you it was just an
interesting project, I mean, how many texts does a queen bee
get each day and how does she decide which to respond to
through all that buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz like my mom describes
an old busy tone, like our math teacher lecturing – the blame
doesn’t belong with you for these jagged scars, the cuts
once begun took on a life of their own, like they were gazelles
with the realization of what I was doing to myself, a cheetah
obviously too slow or not hungry enough, trotting at the end
and then you couldn’t visit me, though the get well card
was nice – I never pictured you as the flowery type – but that
hasn’t harmed my image of you. I don’t think anything can.

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GlenDodge

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
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