Jenny leaned against the counter, counting the stitches where Ariana’s arm had been severed, each segment arranged in clinical precision beneath the glass. The overhead lights hummed, sterile and white, reflecting off the muscle striations, the fine marbling of fat. The attendant, masked and impassive, weighed the cost. A rib’s soft curve. A shoulder blade, gleaming. “Is this enough?” she asked, voice catching in the cold air.
Ariana’s skin, rolled tight like butcher’s parchment, was pressed beneath the scalpel, measured by the inch. Each cut—exact, economical. Josh preferred the delicate portions, the leanest tissue, the parts that held the least resistance. He inspected the yield, thumbs tracing the tendon’s taut line, fingers pressing where nerve met bone, the quicksilver exchange of possession.
Outside, his boots clapped against wet pavement, the rhythm steady, expectant. Jenny imagined his hands pawing through the parcel, the slow unfurling, the practiced hunger. The body, greater than the sum of its parts, was dissolving into the transaction.
The register chimed. A cat licked the wrapping paper. Steam rose from an open vent, curling into the streetlamp glow.
You been gone for a while,
they start to doubt—
but I know where you at.
In the dead of night
no matter what room
you occupy, I abide.
Through all my senses
I feel you all around me.
Petrifyingly beautiful,
they begin to leave
with a misunderstanding.
Baby they think you don't visit me.
Not knowing you were sitting across
from us grinning ear to ear.
I choose this early time
as the nightfall is only for me.
When you come alive.
Your hair is spaced out
curling from the top to the ends,
same as how we embrace.
A hand wraps around my shoulder blade
and another at the back of my head.
How have I managed to say goodbye?
Destroying every part of me
only to pick up the pieces
and make me feel whole.
My sweet illusion.
Copenhagen came into view
over looking the industry findings
of Heidelberg sinking shores
I'd mustered enough nerve to escape
his fist his open hand again twisting
my arm I still held the stone he threw
at my back busting my shoulder blade
the woman at the dinner assures me
I would be fine never the less panic fills
my chest I pray my suffering ends soon
perhaps he'd find something that interests
him as much as attacking me I'm hopeful
in my absence he will surely move on
to a new hobby either way Copenhagen
is wonderful this time of year.
I hate to do this to you
I kissed the scar tissue
on your shoulder blade
It sits there, port wine raised scar
placed there in a time before I met you
by a lighter held by a long ago friend
You were sleeping still,
the white noise of the dehumidifier
filled your ears with dreams
so I kissed it, the scar on your shoulder blade
You didn’t notice me
placing my lips on that soft skin.
I can’t go on like this, you not knowing
Forgive me, I lost your laptop charger, too.
It happened yesterday, I haven’t told you yet
You just looked so tired, your eyelids
Worst of all, I will probably do it again.
Kiss your scar, not lose your charger
I will probably do it again.
But I will never fall in love
with another person, picking onions in the produce aisle.
I did it all for you.
The human skeleton,
is made up of 206 bones
By jove, they are hard,
as if made of stones!
The brain you think with
is in the Skull or Cranium,
the Maxilla and the Mandible
are for chewing bubble gum.
It's atop the spine
which has 33 Vertebrae in all
You're sure gonna break it
if there's a nasty fall.
The 12 pairs of ribs
act just like a big ring,
while 10 fix to the Sternum
the bottom 2 are Floating.
The shoulder blade or the Scapula
is joined with the Clavicle
How they organize the movement
Is another spectacle.
The arms have the Humerus,
the Radius and the Ulna,
The hands' have wrist bones
called Carpals (not made in China).
With Metacarpals and Phalanges
we complete our hand,
don't you forget the lower limbs,
upon which we stand.
The hip bones make the Pelvis
from which the Femur originate
If you gyrate it like elvis
the Patella is sure to break.
Tibia and Fibula
are there in the Shin
The Tarsals and Metatarsals
shape your feet as it's seen.
Our journey ends here
Let me take your leave,
Take good care of your bones
for as long as you live.
-
Pardon me, yes you right there
upon the curb you linger
I wonder if you wouldn’t mind
to share with me a finger
For this you see, the strangest place
there is a spot that’s itching
I’ve tried to reach, with no success,
my shoulder blade is twitching
I used a tree, a street light post,
a wall with cedar thatching
A picket fence, a garden rake,
but none were good at scratching
So if you would, please help me out,
into my back start ripping
Hey that’s not nice, your finger choice
at me, you now are flipping
Started 10/11/19
Finished 10/15/19
Written for the: Itch, witch, glitch or twitch Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
The Bible says we are all made in God's image,
in every way we're a match,
so why can't I reach part of my shoulder blades
from above or below for a scratch?
The Good Lord resides in the Heavens above,
perfection, where nothing can fail,
so why can't I lift my foot up far enough
on my other leg to clip my nails?
God is immaculate, he stands incorrupt,
in all aspects nothing he lacks,
so why is my fingertip just that bit short
when I'm clearing my earhole of wax?
Is it because Adam and Eve were perfect until
they disobeyed God and they sinned,
and everyone born after that had their faults,
the original model God binned?
And that is why though we are all sinners now
because of the choices they made,
the Good Lord had mercy, invented the spoon
so that I can reach my shoulder blade.
Tell me something
You don’t know
And I’ll tell you something
You never will.
Not in this moment
And you will know love
As words on a page
And you will know life
As the lines on your mother’s forehead
And you will become
What was shrouded in mist
The silver white remembrance of a dream
And the scar worn on your shoulder blade
Will be from your words turning against you
Ruination in blind trust
But you will grow
And you will learn
You will look back at the mountains beneath you
And you won’t regret climbing higher
Cause its where I became you
And you became me.
And we became one.
And the questions you will ask
Still won’t be answered
What child is this?
What child are we?
What child am I?
Simply me.
Paradigm
She imagines
you’re attracted to her glow,
her energy,
her aura.
She imagines you see the woman
shaped by parents,
molded, treasured,
wrapped and gifted to the world.
You imagine
how she would look naked.
You imagine how soft her breasts
must be,
resting on a strong abdomen,
protection for
butterflies that live there
and awaken
with your touch.
You imagine her
holding a scale to weigh
her self-worth.
Eyes searching yours,
hungry for approval.
You imagine yourself
painted into her
unfinished self-portrait,
hushed tones
of two lives
melded.
You imagine your hands
on her fragile back
bordered by soft, round shoulders,
supported by twin columns
of muscle.
You imagine yourself a tattoo on her spine
that curves all the way down
to the separation
of fleshy mounds.
Imagine your surprise
as she walks away.
Hips gently swaying,
see-saw motion of shoulders,
and the mole just under her left shoulder blade
winking goodbye.
An object
Forms the marks on my skin
They are permanently engraved
They are part of who I am
Artistic lines
Form my entire shoulder blade
Artistic, natural, and exotic
My ancestor's connected roots reassembled as something symbolic
A hummingbird
Forms a single warrior in the Aztec parade
My blood that runs through my veins now enhances color to the hummingbird's brain
A flower
Forms conflict between beauty and mass destruction
The flower wars was what my ancestors called it
They fought for what they thought was right
Believing in their gods and believing in their king with all their might
An object
To whomever else that sees it
To me
A rare and unique piece of history through a line of blood's memories
On white skin
the butterfly
in contrast
pale perfection
now enhanced
permanently
an explosion of colour
shoulder blade
the resting place
butterfly
with vivid wings
represents
a wish to fly
in colourful abandon
~~~ for nette's contest
the Crown of My Body- a Whitney~~
14/06/2012
Band aids cover the womb,
until the scab grows strong.
In pain I grow weak.
I am sure you can feel it in the words I speak.
Blood leaks, from the warrior like scares on my cheek.
My wombs are fresh, band aids never seem to hold.
Temporary healing fades.
Hope decaying.
Flesh less bones of hope.
Clinging to its shoulder blade,
dragging it with me as I fall and continually fall.
Falling in shattered glass mixed with wreaking trash.
How have I come so low, below to the lowest of all times.
Below the stars I wonder.
Below the thousand footed stampede,
I bleed, I bleed.
With my blood I write, you read.
Indeed in need, in need of hope.
Joey Contemplating a Skeleton
By Elton Camp
The teacher told Joey to learn each bone by name
And that there were only about 206 of the same
The parietal, temporal and occipital are in the head
At least that’s what the biology teacher then said
The atlas and axis are two bones found in the neck
Twelve vertebrae are attached to ribs if you check
Lumbar, sacrum and their parts learn without fail
And don’t forget the coccyx that looks like a tail
Of the maxillae and mandible the jaws are made
Collar bone is the clavicle; scapula shoulder blade
Humerus in upper arm, ulna below, radius thumb side
And in wrist and hand carpals & metacarpals reside
Phalanges are found in both the fingers and the toes
The femur, patella, tibia and fibula in the leg goes
But this is only a small sample of what Joey must learn
If an excellent grade in his biology class he will earn
I feel a touch on the back of my neck
and warm breath
on the right muscle of my shoulder blade,
softly fingers slide
across my side,
down my belly
where they come to rest
as smooth skin
presses against my back,
legs entwining.
Not daring to open my eyes
and ruin this dream
I release a soft growl,
place my hand on her hip
and drift back to sleep.
Face in the hole of the pillow
Belly down laying in pain
Soft music of wind in the willow
Here comes a treat once again
First a soft layer of coconut cream
fingered and buttered and spread
Then thumb ends and fingers
Down back bony thread
Feeling the way into chords
Then the heels of the palms
causing tingles in arms
alternate rhythm is kneading
Up from the hip bones
lifting the ribs
Heels of hands pushing at shoulder blade parting
Through layers of crosshatching muscle
Greasing and oiling the gristle
Of tendons that needed to stretch
Then back down with wider spread fingers
Digging and lifting in patterns of chords
Played on the too tightened stresses
Then a thumb dance back up
To the lower neck frame
Carefully squeezing to loosen
Then a grasp of each shoulder
To squeeze and to lift
For a quick chopping hand edge tattoo
Up and down on a spine now supine
One more slowed rhythmic massage
Let your eyelids now droop
And sink into comfort
From pain
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