Piece meal

Trigger warning: gruesome humor?

I miss people at this time of year, only sometimes then I remember things that make me not miss them after all. That ambivalence. Love can be pretty complicated. Then I started thinking about what specifically I miss and then it morphed into this poem.

I really miss your hands: send them to me.
Send your heart too since you don’t use it.
You don’t see me or even look. I’ll take those eyes.
I miss your voice: send your tongue and larynx.
Bellows to mend, better add your lungs.
You eat too much protein, I’d care for those kidneys.
That brain is not too bad, I’ll admit. Ok, I’ll take it too.
Those feet and ankles and shins and legs are nice to walk with.
You really aren’t kind to your liver: I would be.
You can’t stomach me. Hand it over.
Most people don’t value their intestines nearly enough: I will.
You chose not to listen to me: abandoned ears, finder’s keepers.
You surely won’t use the bits that are left. Give them to me.
I may not reassemble you correctly but it will keep me entertained.
Piece meal.


The photograph is from January 2022, on the east coast.