growing into this body

i examine my face up close. i know all

the familiar markers:

there’s a crumb on my lip,

two moles, one under my

right eye, one above my mouth

on the left.

i place titanium meticulously:

it sits unfamiliar so i

touch my face and stare

until i recognize myself again,

cushioned between pains of my own choosing,

and my nerves don’t sing with

every twitch so i don’t cringe with

every instinctual grimace.

i watch my alarm ring

again

at 7:00 am

every wednesday

and destroy myself to become

human and whole for the first time.