B. Betty, RN

Sign my cast.

The one that encases my heart.

The one that makes straight my jagged bones.

My limbs once crushed by the pain of us

now taped tightly at sharp angles.

Angles that once cut my soul like shards,

Now blunted with plaster,

Smoothed by strangers hands.

“All Better?” she smiles.

“Be gentle. This will hurt for awhile.

You will be stronger after you rest.

Bones grow harder once they have been broken.”

She washes her hands

of the dust that now

settles into my marrow.

The particles encase me.

I am hardened.

The warmth makes me sweat.

My exoskeleton, now

my superpower,

protects

my  pale underbelly

once so easily

disemboweled.

Like a priest with incense

I give you first rites to all of me.

Use the permanent marker.

Write carefully

so as not to smear

your name.

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