“Frankensister” by Sophie Mackintosh

not for her the iron brace clamping her head still
no sanatoriums, no vivisecting, no laced whalebone

instead she felt the pins at night as she shifted,
her zippered skin coming undone against the sheets

pre-op, she cried over the shoots bent backwards
touching their own heels – spine,

you are a row of teeth that i want to extract,
a snagged thread pulling my fabric askew –

and when the fever dreams hit she took off her gown
and finally got up to dance, but the IV pulled her back

now bolts holds her upright, posture-perfect
when she sinks in the lake i dive for her like a pearl