Roz Kaveney (rozk) wrote,
Roz Kaveney
rozk

Another TWINS poem

Cheek implants, tuck the chin, reduce the brow
- they go in through the temple, shave the bone
above the orbit. Telling surgeons how
precisely you must match; all stitches sewn

the same and every cut, except for when
small differences must go. The little bump
where you half-broke your nose. You count to ten
hold hands, and sleep. And when you wake your rump

is carved to curvy. So is hers. They make
even your labia the same, so neat
they even taste the same. For beauty's sake
so many cuts. Then one night, in the street,

some bitch slashes your face. And in a week
your sister wears the same scar on her cheek.
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