Encoded Anatomies



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Encoded Anatomies

A poem from Washington State Poet Laureate Arianne True.

  • June 15, 2023
  • |
  • Poetry
  • |
  • By Arianne True

I – limbs

this is how it feels to be boneless

to slide over ground, only muscle

but when I lie down, bone-heavy,

each line draws a human body on the bed

how wild to still feel tired after days of rest,

how wild to still/have a racing brain

watching it walk, each step a lash

a soft curl unfurls along long limbs

that is not how I move anymore

not today, at least, not now

something is in my heart, or my nerves

something slows and numbs, I tremble

doctors will come with offerings

I already hold open and still

whole creatures live this slowly

cycles of torpor, breath, collapse

II – mantle, with contents

I used to think diagnosis inevitable,

to think all wrong things detectable

and known. Certainty has passed

through my organs transformed.

Something as soft and malleable

as an octopus has a hard, sharp

beak somewhere in the supple.

You can’t see it from here. But

there it is, and venom (call it

poison) spreads the same whether

or not you watch. Know what bit.

I’ll see a heart specialist next week.

I wonder if she knows which

tender set of cells grows itself

three hearts: one for each set

of gills, and one for the rest

of everything. There are not

second and third hearts

powering my lungs. She knows

that already, before meeting.

What will she and my body

say to each other in that office?

I’ve become more afraid, leave

trails of ink wherever I go.

III – (it’s not all in your) head (but it’s there too)

You look last at my eyes. We meet them so rarely these days.

You know what it is to be sick like this, a body full of

thresholds and tipping points. Too many people

I love are sick. From when we didn’t die. A

radula is a rasp, is a ribbon. In octopuses,

balance is fluid floating in fluid. This is

older than two summers. Roots in

the brain, the nervous system.

Your life hides in your soft

shell. Ripples (quiet). No

one knows what’s

wrong. What

happened.

But you

do.

Washington State Poet Laureate Arianne True is traveling throughout the state holding public readings and events. Find an event near you.

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