Background:
All that summer, I carried around Gray's Anatomy, obsessed with kidneys, spleens, eyelashes, toes—the parts we assume make us whole. But it's the metaphors—even in medical texts—that connect us, that bind together body and soul, that keep the blood pushing through tight passages. Since my own father's unsuccessful heart transplant in 1993, I've been awed at the miracle and terror of our bodies and how, both inside and out, we are always part of the other, straining to connect, to correct, to purify, to expel.
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Sample Poems:
The Lung
A miniature stingray, it glides only
inside its bone cage, slate-gray and shiny,
sliding about its domain, inhaling anything
within breath: the wind, whispers,
wild weeping, the way
you walk through
the winter air
toward a frozen pond,
a pole, and a cigarette.
You look down
through the hole in the ice
and see the stingray,
or its memory
circling the dark cold
of your body
or life. What does it take
to breathe in
or out? To keep the poisonous
spine swishing
in such chilly waters
swimming about the heart?
Esophagus
The shuffling-off-to-Buffalo, toboggan ride slide,
do-not-pass-go short slope to the stomach;
the tunnel of swallows and masticated morsels
bound for the belly, the bowels, and the bowl
on days when everything (boiled, spoiled, or fried)
in the choking world goes down,
the right way.
Table of Contents:
Body Parts
The Lungs
The Pericardium
Ribs
The Liver
The Gall-bladder
The Pancreas
Sticks, Stones, and Spleen
The Appendix
The Intestines
The Kidneys
The Bladder
Cowper's Glands
The Tunica Vaginalis
The Round Ligaments
Hair
The Hip
Areola
The Stomach
Closet Skeleton
Spine
The Tibia and Fibula
Elbows, Knees
Nail
The Big Toe
Uncommonly Cold
The Ear
The Appendages of the Eye
Eyeball
The Nose
Molars
Tongue
Tastebud
The Epiglottis
Vocal Chords
Esophagus