Margin: Exploring Modern Magical Realism


PHANTOM LIMBS

My '83 Gremlin flew
off the freeway
and rolled 900 degrees.
When my car-door cut through me,
my legs must have walked away.
Like spirits that rise
at the moment of death,
my legs rose
and got out of that mess.
Yesterday my calves ached
like I was wading
in the ocean, salted cold.
This morning I felt my legs blush
shy, from the sun's
hot eyes. And now
I feel your warm, wet kisses
up and down my shins
and thighs, though I'm alone,
though your body
has not yet been found.

s h i r a   r i c h m a n
s e a t t l e,   w a s h i n g t o n

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Rev'd 2005/12/07