← v11n1, Spring 2012
Poetry · Volume 11, Number 1

The Nervous System Speaks

They roll their eyes—I’m much too small

to be the feeler of all things: donkey fur

to heartburn, eiderdown to rising welts.

They lean too close; my ganglia tremble.

Cameras flash; I see a train light closing in.

Oh missing flare-gun of my heart!

Lost bandage of my skin!