Rebecca Morgan Frank

Everybody’s a Picasso

 

The tongue can be recreated, as can the cheek,
the scalp, the nose. Parts of the body relocated
to necessary service, rendering the doctors all
into Picassos. I’ve had my eye transferred
to my chin so I can read the fine print. My foot
moved next to my ear so I can hear myself walking
home at night. My lips are now on my forehead
so you don’t have to slouch when you kiss me goodbye.
Every new configuration makes the world look twice,
but I am the queen of efficiency. I came out
like a two-headed cat with one of the heads missing.
I have been looking at it ever since. I am waiting
for the kind of love that comes in a transformer kit,
wielded by one who will put all my parts back
where they belong. One who listens to my own
footsteps for me. Who lends me his eyes.

Rebecca Morgan Frank is the author of two collections of poems, Little Murders Everywhere (Salmon 2012) and The Spokes of Venus (forthcoming Carnegie Mellon 2016). She is co-founder and editor of Memorious.