Origin Story with Phantom Limb
after K. Iver
The woman in me begins in recurring.
Dreams. I am a young girl.
Running in an open field.
From a man with a beard.
His rifle.
Sounds like a door. Slamming shut.
With each shot.
I lose a part. Of my body.
By the end I am on the ground.
Scrabbling up the hill.
Teeth sinking in dirt.
Dragging forward. What is left of me.
I have no voice.
I wake up dead.
In the dream body. Screaming.
Sometimes before the man appears.
I am picking white wildflowers.
I clench the sticky stems in my jaw.
The skin-soft petals. Brush my cheek.
When I think of where. Understanding enters.
I think of the flowers. My mouth.
If I can gather enough.
I feel the dream like a soldier.
Feels the arm. Lost in battle.
Reaches with it to pass.
The salt.
