Never have I swum in gentle creeks
Only torrents wild, arroyos, shallow and quick to anger have bathed me
I drowned a hundred times before I was three
That was the summer of my surgery
Recovering, my mother placed a donut for me on her dresser—
Pink frosting with sprinkles on a blue and white plate
If I wanted it, I'd have to get up from their expansive green bed and walk
Seven feet
Cross the ochre, shag carpet
Heavy guts tumbling out from fresh, red and yellow sutures.
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