"Three Inches From A Wheel" (creative piece)

I saw the moon behind my head
when I blacked out;
a misplaced halo.

This near-dead space was dark and peaceful
except for the noise,
sound-waves sketching the city corner
where I'd been standing;
cars, honking and flashing by
in anonymous red-black-silver-yellow streaks,
green light meanders to red,
one car can't stop, hits another--
and I just happen to be in the way.

When they recovered me
my head
was three inches from a wheel.

I awoke disfigured
and drifted through eight years
as a child cyborg,
a work constantly in progress
and ever mildly in pain,
titanium plates in my face
and bandages on my skin,
cut, stab, paste, wait for healing, begin again.

New names--
ugly, weird,
"get away from me, freak
your intelligence makes me insecure
and surely all of that junk in your face
sets off metal detectors
and scares the boys
which makes you a loser
HAHA"

I still have the red silk rose
that my first boyfriend
gave me for valentine's that same year.

these days I like to live on the edge
(timidly looking over)
because there's nothing
like looking death in the face
to show you that the world isn't safe

and there's nothing
like laughing
at your own life story
to make you feel alive.


-- by Claire Palermo