Gray’s Anatomy

Organs of Special Senses

I see and hear the silence before he overfills the room with anger. I enjoy the seconds of quiet and ignore the stare that could cover me in rashes. In my face , I see and hear him , my ears ring with the repetition of “fuck you” , my eyes water and I retch , vomit on the hardwood floor. I see it, an orange brown puddle. I leave it there for him to slip on.

The Female Organs of Generation

Inside it is soft as fleece; it could stay forever, as it might. The baby , that is born in my dreams . silent but alive in my arms. Fatherless and fearless we carry on together . Our utopia , we are pale beauties that look like creatures underwater. Perfect clear eyes stare and seek comfort and small hands clutch my hair as we journey through the capricious landscapes. I wrap the baby in a shawl of yellow satin and wool . It coos and pouts, I wake to empty arms and a longing that remains inside.

Embryology

My father was gone during my gestation. He left my mom alone with her mother while he was strung out on coke and whiskey with his brothers. He lost his tractor repair business and filed bankruptcy while I grew inside my mother. Every dollar my father made was snorted up his nose as my mom decorated the insides of house with slate blue, brown, and brass fixtures. I was planned she told me. Not well enough I thought.

Written: March 26, 2009