Over Easy Eggs

10/16/07; 3:46am EST

the castles in my femora
they have declared war on my circulation
red and blue flags
i have turned purple

my jaw
is falling off my head
and crushing the nerves in my neck
like a mother bird cooing to her chicklets’ bones

my blood
is turning to tea
a few of its leaves like driftwood in my heart
beating with me
as tumors
my liver won’t filter

my ears
must smell like the ocean
for my hair has turned to seaweed
humid, the brain

my nose
is in my neck, too
but it’s an infectious swamp
i want to pluck out all its black trees
and feel the satisfaction of stinging
let the mucus ski

the lines in my palms
are melting
on the carpet
and across the room

my stomach
is growing cacti
and i can feel the tumbleweeds rolling
rolling rolling
across the prairie
that is my membrane

my pelvis
has swallowed ice
it is sore from impact
from my lust for you
i lie down and feel only whale harpoons

my eyes
have forgotten my face
they feel like snorkeling goggles
they won’t be blue tomorrow
when i look at the sun

i feel small enough
to the point where i could rent the 28″ TV
and feel the leather in those cars
fall asleep to their trademark hip-hop
and drink tea with Geiko the Gecko

my wrists
are so cliché
and i’m so afraid
that if i bend them back at all, they’ll tear
slowly
violently
ember the bus girl
still has scars “where they all intertwine”

my latissimi dorsi
has forgotten its job as a tuxedo
for my
back
like an outlet, i am exposed
grotesque and naked
with plaque on my bones

my arms
are tired branches from my spine
i rip them open
to find a little oozing green

my calves
are fiercely running
no no no no please please please please
but they only run in their sleep
it tingles like fireworks

my knees
fell off when i threw up
in my chair
USS kneecaps
like Dixie’s paper plates

“I love you, but this is it.
This is what I think is best now.
This time I thought.
So, I think you should give it a try.
This time, I’m going to be here.”

god
gave me
these shoulders
but they were frisbees all along
now they’re trying to fly away from me
but they were never really mine


reprinted by permission from Poetry SuperHighway

Jessica Williams is a 15-year-old high school student in Lake Arrowhead, CA.