Hot Dog Punarbhava
Wake up stacked—side by side—damp as the plastic wrapped Sahlen’s
I stopped eating when I was nine: mechanically separated like my thighs
from shoulder blades and knee caps. We are frank: nitrites and intestine
ingredient labels—truth is false and listed under recommended servings of each other.
Rewrite the dictionary: ketchup on paper plates. Yes (exclamation) - a lie
used to protect ourselves from the knowledge that we are vestigial: twisted and cut apart.
Lips grafted to eye sockets: amputate our phantom limbs—do you remember being hanged
over bedposts and our bodies? Infancy leaves no recollection of the umbilical
beyond the permanency of mirrored middle scars—no one took pride in cutting us free.
Braid toes into hair to remind us of our black-line casing—recreate our body
in vacuum sealed comforters and amniotic salt water. Thirty-five second gestation
elucidated in connection twist severance—we were once linked whole.
The bottoms of my feet remember the top of your head. The wrinkles in my left sole
match your hairline—trimmed links from the same chain.