ok foot
by Emily Mernin
hanging there. weighty and a bit dead-ish. disturbing the brilliant triangle between ankle bone and tendon. ignoring the golden afternoon. five bloodless toes, slack and silent in their crooked fold.
hanging there. despite the edges of shin and calf flexing beneath twitching skin, the veins and freckles shifting, finding sunlight. purpling mid-air and numb and so without ground. alien to the poised length of leg that rests gently on the sheet. the leg that even now, even in its napping stillness, even swathed in white, takes a living shape.
ok, fragment master. she will sleep. i will be your student.
Emily Mernin is from New Jersey.