Internal
Labor
I am a
stethoscope of hearing,
My ear
curved internally to listen
To the sound
of my neck muscles
Stretching,
relaxing, creaking
Like the
sound of evergreens
As the wind
sends them listing
Against themselves.
I can hear
The sound of
ear wax as it cracks
And pops,
the pressure like
A release of
a soda can tab,
Suction and bubbles,
or plastic
Packaging,
taking a whole mass
Of it in hand
and wringing
Until every cell
bursts at once.
All the
sounds move to the rhythm
Of my blood,
pulsing. My heart
Beat overshadows
any other sound,
Even the engulfing
wave of vibration
From my
throat swallowing, the ripple
Effect of my
vertebrae clicking
In my neck.
My internal motions
How red and endearing,
to listen
To my body
glisten through its
Daily work,
expanding and contracting
Itself in a
routine of janitorial work
The cleaning
and healing,
The endless
hours of upkeep.
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