The Fix

ten
nine
eight
seven

they called it
hysteria
as if only women
could get lost
as if
the uterus twisted suddenly free
of its clawed Fallopian cage
landed like a cat on pelvic rubble
played hide and seek
in the twisted and twisting passageways
of her body

they said
she must be depressed
as if the mine shafts in her brain
had suddenly collapsed
leaving only her feet poking out
for rescuers

there's a probe
on her foot
dancing
in time with
her heart

seven
six
five

he told her once
he loved her. Only once.
That was the night
he kissed her with his hard tongue
and later
when she lifted her bruised hips
from the mattress on the floor
of the villa in Ponsonby
she saw that he had left her five dollars

five
four
three

she was
lucky they said
(the gloved and gloving fingers
unravelling,
unravelling her)
the tube sliding
from between her
clamped and silent legs
her clamped and silent mind
Shhhhhh they said

she was lucky
it was only a baby
that he was notorious
that she was naive
that she should have known better
than to trust a man with a tattoo
of a tiger on his torso
Shhhhhhh they said

to breathe
and she smells the sweet sweet gas
watches the sweet milk
slide slowly deliciously into her arm
her body bare and breasts
fried crisp white
tucked in
with four neat triangular corners and baked for forty minutes

four
three
two
and she thinks
of her underwear
folded neatly beside
her head

three
two
one
and she thinks
of the pink teddy bear
she bought

and her parents
their
tight
lips

breath
held
tight

and the mask comes
down and down
one
down and down
one

one
down.


Been on a bit of a poetry writing binge, probably prompted by the need to have something new for the Slam tonight. This one written last night.