[Issue 2016.37]

‘Patchwork Girl’, Colleen Anderson

Photograph © 2016 Dr. T. Eratopo

I stitched on my leg
after he tore it off
unhappy that I could stand on my own

He blackened my eye
didn't want me to see
the women threaded around his loins
like the heads of warriors taken in battle

I washed and rinsed
patted on a foundation able to adapt
to bruised views
Rose colored glasses couldn't help me

He stabbed me through and through
Blood paling to nacre
a shell I built to contain the severed pieces

He cut me off from society
Dismembered my compassion but in the process
his creation, like Dr. Frankenstein's
was more than he bargained for

I've grown adept at sewing
making patterns, fine even lines
When anyone looks closely
they only see a doll

I am more than the sum of my parts
more than a carcass left hanging
Every stitch has a beginning and an end
Made with the sharp bite of the metal thorn
I made myself into something new

I cut and repatterned, used the tools
I had grown used to
unraveled him vein by vein
sinew by sinew leaving a trail
A warning, not to take the same path
use the same patterns

© 2016 Colleen Anderson

[Issue 2016.37]

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