In the ICU, my friend washed another friend\u2019s<\/p>\n
face with the serum and cream samples<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
they hoarded from Sephora. She sloped<\/p>\n
and shaped his eyebrows like calligraphy.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The nurses envied his stainless skin,<\/p>\n
saintly, like he hadn\u2019t made a perfect O<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
on an imaginary dick to teach me<\/p>\n
about efficient blowjobs. When I die<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I know my friends will be dragged<\/p>\n
up in sequins and blush, will cut cake<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
with their contour. But I know death<\/p>\n
has always picked my more beautiful<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
loves over me. What a lucky bastard, to burn<\/p>\n
a candle in wild fire. To make breath<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
into moan and song. How we learned<\/p>\n
hunger and feast from our own fabulous<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
bodies. I don\u2019t know much of anything.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t think as much as do, as much<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
as want and miss and admire. I hope<\/p>\n
you have love letters for my friends.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I wouldn\u2019t blame you. Those handsome<\/p>\n
boys. But I\u2019d say find another messenger<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
because when I see my boys, my girls,<\/p>\n
I will kiss them, and perform nothing<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
else, forever, for so long we will be reborn<\/p>\n
as trees joined at the trunks, a set of summer<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
winds over sweaty sunbathing hunks, a handful<\/p>\n
of hard candies melted into rainbow.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I figured it\u2019d be months without laughter.<\/p>\n
Understandably. On pelvic dissection day<\/p>\n
my friend Amelia whispers I\u2019m sorry,<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n girlfriend<\/em> before starting the saw.<\/p>\n Another friend unknowingly holds<\/p>\n <\/p>\n his cadaver\u2019s hand during the biggest<\/p>\n incisions. Classmates I don\u2019t even like<\/p>\n point out veins and nerves to spare me<\/p>\n <\/p>\n hours of inhaling fat and fascia. Then<\/p>\n one group finds a penis pump and we decide<\/p>\n <\/p>\n yes he meant it as a surprise and the boys<\/p>\n fist bump his cold hands. Another group<\/p>\n shares their cadaver\u2019s perfect pink polish,<\/p>\n <\/p>\n another has fresh, unwrinkled ink<\/p>\n across her chest. Like tiny treasures<\/p>\n <\/p>\n for us. Of course no one donates their body<\/p>\n without a sense of humor. Of course the body<\/p>\n is a gift. We admit on dissection days<\/p>\n <\/p>\n we all leave hungry, specifically for chicken.<\/p>\n I booked my calendar with hook-ups<\/p>\n <\/p>\n as if to practice how the blood flows<\/p>\n while it can. One boy I brought home<\/p>\n had a scar down his sternum, a souvenir<\/p>\n <\/p>\n of a heart condition. He apologized<\/p>\n years after the incision healed, like the scar<\/p>\n <\/p>\n didn\u2019t pucker like lips. I imagined the lights<\/p>\n baring on him, how so many lucky<\/p>\n hands got to press against his skin.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" But I know death \/ has always picked my more beautiful \/\/ loves over me.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":6377,"template":"","categories":[9,49,119],"tags":[1819,201],"class_list":["post-6371","article","type-article","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-aquifer","category-literary-features","category-poetry","tag-eric-tran","tag-poetry"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n