Sep-Oct '06 | briefing | mail | interviews | articlespsorchat | psorchat review | don't say this | flaker creativity | flakers' jargon | other places | archives | send mail | ed dewkesearch | acknowledgments | legal stuff | 2004 Ed Dewke

the truth is
poem by Dena Feldman

the truth is      
i love it.      
  it's mostly outwardly
  invisible now and
  i love it.      
         
Warped        
  Masochistic      
    Martyrdom    
         
Yet, i cannot deny  — i love it    
         
i love it, how they all react to me;    
i react to my own body and    
we are all reacting to the absurd now that    
surgery has become my erotic friend because he makes me look strong.
each sting of his needle makes their eyes    
  grow wet for me
  while mine stay dry and bright when scalpels  
    kiss my skin    
         
  skin cancer makes me a hero    
    chemotherapy drugs make me a Greek goddess
      arthritic deformities make me a Vietnam Veteran
        and pain makes them worship
        my endless smiling freakazoid cheer
it's mostly invisible now —    
  what      
    you    
  can't see is what makes    
    me    
  smile.      
if i never said a word they'd never know  
  so i must want them to.    
  i tell them all, everything, each new savage set of medical teeth
    sunk into me  
      just look brave
      or beautiful  
      or fearless  
         
the truth is, I love it —    
  not the everlasting hateful pound and itch  
  but the way it gets them all to scratch  
    my heart for me.

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