Brian Koukol
KEEP CALM AND CARRION
if glue is made from picked-over bones
our bond will never break
forged by a shared and lengthy past
and the habit of joint survival
but chronic heat gone cold can crack
and therein we rediscover our passion
fishing in the fissures to catch
that tangerine room we shared
in our own bungalow haven
before our selfless dreams
atrophied alongside my muscles
* * *
ABUSE-BOUCHE
You tried to feed me a bite of lunch,
but my jaw wouldn't open to accommodate;
when you tugged on my lips to force a fit,
invalidity realized overtook my mind
and I backed away my wheelchair
to escape my inescapable fate,
though you followed me, shoving—
the toasted wheat cutting corners
of both mouth and self-respect
like lemon on an un-scabbed wound.
* * *
STARVE YOURSELF CLEAN
When you have none, agency supplants even dignity:
to starve, to eat, both what and how
is a choice almost all can make
for that elusive, illusive control.
Eating disorders dig deep, dark defense
that hurt the self most of all
when pain is the only way to exorcise
the guilt of needing, and taking, and consuming.
[Remember when I called my mom a cunt
because she reheated my chicken marsala
with barbecue sauce by mistake?]
I'd kill myself, but suicide is impossible,
and my last taste must never be surrender.
Brian Koukol, raised in the suburbs of Los Angeles, now makes his home among the salt breezes and open spaces of
California's Central Coast. A lifelong battle with muscular dystrophy has informed the majority of his work, which is written
with the aid of voice recognition software. His words have appeared in The Baltimore Review, GigaNotoSaurus, and
Rogue Agent among other places.
Visit his author website: http://www.briankoukol.com
|