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Poems

Imagine: A Love Song

By Denise Miller From Issue No. 2

Imagine I am not fingernail
scrapings— imagine I am not
neck, or vagina or legs—

Imagine I,
am
not a
knot.

Imagine you are not
a   toe   tag. Not   rubber   band
that encircles the right wrist.

Not   a black
hooded,   zip—up sweatshirt
(cut) black— Not black

with white lettering, blue jeans,
black— boxers (cut), two
black— shoes   and two
black— socks.

Imagine you
are not tags
attached to both
great toes— ankle
tied together—
a boy altered
by surgical
intervention—

Imagine you are not
a recovered bullet, metal
jacketed moderately
deformed, mushrooming
at the nose— Now “TR”
inscribed on its base

Imagine? Instead?—
W
e

a
r
e

not

kidney, or head, or hands.
Imagine we— are not
unremarkable, not— skin

as thin or disposable or
ordinary as a plastic
garbage bag.

Imagine us
not on display
not pathology
or pathologized

Imagine We
backs, still vertical—
still alive. Not

twisted until made lethal.

About Denise Miller More From Issue No. 2