“Able-Bodied”

Where my feet

should be

can’t begin to step

to step

to step

takes energy

I do not have

to walk

I’d rather fly

to step

to glide

past the brick

and mortar

down a set of stone

steps going down

going down

that building is so

white it hurts

my eyes

can’t look

now to step

to step

a familiar

what path

is this?

A bird

am I

just a limping thing

or can I

fly

to glide my

arms open wide

for some semblance

a taste of home

“Pre-Op”

I didn’t know

I was waiting for something

with two eyes and a grin

to swallow me up

Never spit me out.

I feel Not Myself

standing on a bulbous forked tongue.

Disheveled is a good word

I threw it in the river

with those fish who like to watch their own

suicides on live T.V.

I couldn’t find a note.

Someone’s mother was crying

in a Las Vegas hotel room

trapped by a bright red lotus

whose teeth I later sold.

I dreamed I was surgeon

operating on a Dead Man.