demolding (20161211)

i made a mold of my arm using
food-grade alginate, the same stuff
dentists use to make impressions
of your teeth when you’ve got a crown
in your future (too bad the palace
and regalia don’t come with it)

working my arm free was an exercise
in patience and a slow struggle
against the vacuum that
adhered to my fingers and held them
firmer than any handshake

in the end, there was a sucking pop
and my arm came free
i used the mold to cast a model
of my arm in plaster
all the pores
all the veins
recreated in moon-white
manmade stone

i think that’s the way
i want to be born
if i get a second shot
at this shit
my soul pulled out of
this gelatinous
dessert abomination
with a single deafening crack
and then a body,
static
cold
still pocked with my imperfections
but no longer yielding to time
or sensation

20 thoughts on “demolding (20161211)

      1. After the past year of back pain, robot sounds great, hopefully with built-in jazz streaming, excellent vision (x-ray eyes?), a ton of memory and alloys that defy rust and tarnish! 🙂

  1. You would make the best Frankenstein, and I would mend you whenever you’d pop a stitch. You’d call me : “Mama.” Lol! I enjoyed your picturesque words and your masterful ability to tell these intriguing tales with such zest and finesse.

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