I was ready for impersonal touches, squeezes, pokes, to my neck
But a needle?
{sigh}
No warning
And worse?
I'm invisible.
With my chin pointing at your ceiling
Your body within an intimate distance to mine
You grasp my chin
Tilting it one way
Then the other.
Talking to your assistant
But not to my body lying still
on this table
in the middle of the room.
In the middle of this room.
Oh, a biopsy?
You're injecting my neck with your numbing needle?
Look at me, damn it.
You're not a coroner
I'm not dead or asleep.
"All of this is probably mumbo jumbo to you"
you finally look at me and say
before you leave
Not actually.
I like to listen
I like to watch
I am a participant,
not a corpse.
Tears trickle down these cheeks
As I type these words
As I wonder at what distance
you hold the humans
on your table.
Or do you see us at all.
~KGM 2015
Logan Leichtman is a liar, a thief, and a gaslighter.
