THE METAMORPHOSIS
KRISTIN LAFOLLETTE
With my flesh open, I can hear the inside
of my body
as it tells me about the need for water,
the thirst that never goes away, the
thick pieces of titanium nested
in bone
Surgery heals with the destruction of skin and flesh and
I practice the cutting technique, the removal
of objects, the gliding of a needle into
the soft part of a limb
I recognize that I don’t know what I am,
why my skin and hair and eyes are dark
Even with my flesh open, I don’t know
the people I’ve come from but
I am so aware of the color of my irises and
the raised scars on my body and the
places where stitches like black
insects have held me together,
kept me from pulling apart,
kept me from biting the soft parts for sustenance
∘∘∘