← v11n1, Spring 2012Poetry · 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!
