My body consists mostly of forgetting.
There are days I wake up
and my organs can’t remember
their most basic purposes.
There are days my mind can’t find words that fit
so my mouth refers to cereal as
morning dry soup.
Every surgery leaves a mark and those marks are
the first things I notice when I look in a mirror.
Are the things on my naked body
that I recognize least.
I undress in the dark now, even when I’m alone.
Who is going to love these scars?
Who is going to share me
with the things lurking and laughing in my body?
I am trying not to forget the world
as easily as it has forgotten me.
By Rachel Tanner
Rachel Tanner’s work has appeared in various places including Bad Pony, Longleaf Review, Drunk Monkeys, and elsewhere. She tweets @rickit
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