Excision
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Excision by Ann Cefola
When Barbie had her hysterectomy, Ken had no idea what it was.
Unaware she’d been bleeding for years. Her Anne-Francis face
wide open on the OR table. Drill the doctor had to use
to cut through polyvinyl chloride.
Unaware she’d been bleeding for years. Her Anne-Francis face
wide open on the OR table. Drill the doctor had to use
to cut through polyvinyl chloride.
Oh cousin Francie had phoned and Skipper extended the stiff hand
of sisterly support but Barbie wondered, Who am I without my secret organ?
Her black-lined blue eyes brimmed. Would there be
crying jags, loss as bright as her pink nails?
of sisterly support but Barbie wondered, Who am I without my secret organ?
Her black-lined blue eyes brimmed. Would there be
crying jags, loss as bright as her pink nails?
Afterwards—her sports car, portable house—the same.
The fleur-de-lis that formed her inmost self
no one would notice missing
in her old pose on the shelf.
The fleur-de-lis that formed her inmost self
no one would notice missing
in her old pose on the shelf.
Ann Cefola is author of Face Painting in the Dark (Dos Madres Press, 2014), St. Agnes, Pink-Slipped (Kattywompus Press, 2011), Sugaring (Dancing Girl Press, 2007), and the translation Hence this cradle (Seismicity Editions, 2007). A Witter Bynner Poetry Translation Residency recipient, she also received the Robert Penn Warren Award judged by John Ashbery. Her work appears in journals such as Feminist Studies and Natural Bridge, and translations in Eleven-Eleven, Exchanges, and Inventory among others. For more about Ann, see www.anncefola.com and www.annogram.blospot.com.
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