L’esperienza de questa dolce vita

Stitch one: Nobody Saw it Coming.

Little hands gripped around the wooden bench

I used my legs to push my tiny body against the table.

My eyes glistened with anticipation for the next big leap,

if my arms could just reach a bit farther –

my Venus, my moon shaped scar that lies comfortably

below the protruding bone at the base of my skull.

You were the foreshadow to my future,

the start of my stitches.

Stitch two: I Didn’t Know She Had a Cyster

You were the radical riddle that rocked my third grade year,

getting bigger every time I got sick.

I could feel you even when I didn’t want to,

not only did I get Adam’s rib, but I got his apple as well;

a solid lump in my throat growing with sickness.

You caused the most frustration, mocking me every morning

with a multitude of mucus filling up inside you.

When you were finally removed I could not eat for a week,

every swallow swelled up my esophagus,

soon I was spitting up stomach acid.

Even now you are my most noticeable scar,

securing your spot in my memory,

Stitch three: Trampoline of Terror

My sister broke her arm on it once,

that should have been my first clue.

Fewer springs makes the bounce more intense,

just a few, nothing that could be considered dangerous –

Jubilant jumpers make their way in a circle around the tar colored screen,

eagerness rises within each child as their eyes

focus on the middle, who can jump the highest?

Without warning, my squiggly little body

fell thru the springs and created you.

Blood dripping down my face I didn’t even realize you were there,

waiting to become my next badge of honor.

Stitch four: Lips are Not Always Luscious

As if being fifteen wasn’t awkward enough,

I found myself frantically failing to fit in to high school

and you had to come along.

They called you a mucus membrane,

I called you a pain in the ass.

Making your way through my lower lip

you must have felt some sort of satisfaction in my suffering,

knowing that by the time I realized what you were, it would be too late.

When I smiled you stuck out like a marble nesting behind my bottom lip,

stretching the skin so tight my lips would bleed.

After your removal I looked like frankenlip,

humiliating humor haunted me for years.

Stitch five: Stainless Steel Circle of Pain

I forced the 14 gauge bar through my ear,

it was not meant to house something of that size.

I heard the skin tear closely to my eardrum,

a noise worsened by the immediate pain.

I borrowed them from a friend, two stainless steel rings

shaped in a half circle, missing the balls that connected the two ends.

Summer after my senior year,

exhausted from snorkeling

the decision to head back was made.

I didn’t even know it was a threat. all those years next to me,

protecting me, servant to my every whim.

I grabbed the handle to get in

that was when I got caught off guard.

snatching the stainless steel ring from my ear my fifth scar was made.

I heard the ‘cling’ of the ring hitting the pavement

and I knew right away that something was wrong.

My sister screamed in terror as my earlobe

hung two inches below its intended location.

You managed to take the cake when it came to scars,

four separate stitches behind the lobe,

three separate stitches on the front.

My flushed face dripping with snot

I asked the nurse for a tissue and she said no.

In agonizing pain, the numbing wears off

and now even my mom can’t look me in the eye.

 

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This is one of my many college poems that will inevitably show up here because that’s a time in which I felt the most creative. I was taught new concepts and poetry formations that I never knew existed. As you may have guessed, this one is meant to tell a story and leave it to me to make it a bloody one.

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