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Volume 1, Issue 4
Winter 2005:


Mary K. Lindberg

Cell 2 Soul. 2005 Winter; 1(4):a21

All I have to read on this bus are my
X-rays. "Lumbo-sacral spine and pelvis."
Exposed film yet not a photograph.
Takes nerve to pull them out of mustard
envelope before strangers on a
hot downtown bus. Radiated bony
architecture quite personal.
Yes, it's me, penetrated by very
short wavelengths, but it's you too.
Get that? You, staring. Never did like
anyone reading over my shoulder.
Mister nosey, you're just a web of
skin and bones yourself. Stop ogling.
You'll strain your cervical spine. If you look
at my bright green dress, two legs stockingless,
isn't that enough? Haven't you heard
we are more than our skeletons? More than
you can discover snooping on my bare
bones like a frustrated, near-sighted
grave robber. Some call it self, some soul.
Whatever. It's your own. So go back
to your Lotto window-gazing fantasies and
leave my bones alone.

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