First Surgery
Doctor, I’ve come here with
an unbelievable testimony.
They are going to fill me
with a hot liquid that I begged for,
wash me out. Sanitize me. I will
pay for this freedom with an ordeal
and a moment of sleep. How frightful
it will be to be positioned between
gratitude and anesthesia. Someone will
be filling me up with a radiofrequency.
I will not be able to change the station.
I am going to be submissive to their exploration.
They will cauterize me and plug my seepage
with an expense. I will make the payments,
I will know the entirety of the debt.
The show does not end here.
I will be so swollen. Everything will
leak out of me, my cyclical torment
trickling down my legs for days,
to eventually cease. If this doesn’t work,
I will be sorted through a precious extraction.
A token of my womanhood
will be so graciously given a much better home
on the outside of me. A proud divorcee,
I will want daffodils for the ceremony.
They have offered me a trimming now,
but I have all my bets on the full severance package.
I can’t wait to be a real girl, not my
ovaries’ obedient marionette.
I will scream for my home. I will
visit Heaven and recite everything I know
all at once, a clamor for the angels
to prove that I will be able to still
recognize myself without my most
obvious wound.