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.