​Liam Strong
​

my ovaries really do want to die, timothy

fallen ginko leaves with no trees to father
them. sidewalk illegible. it’s too
on-the-nose. unhyphenated, the parlor
trick, coded language
for blurry peaches. roosters crow in the next
neighborhood while still night. there’s
no good metaphor for child, one
that isn’t worth protecting. if the process
can be repeated, according to newton,
it will. energy is often
destructive, its hands drowned with honey
locust. arms cradled by themselves.
somewhere, something dies, & they keep
on living. no one is
proud of the sun for rising. 
cancer dream part twenty-three
 
of course, a solace.
            from your kidneys, bursting, a jaundice of water. foot drop, naked ballerina without
            poise.
 
                        at a family reunion, circa 2004, uncle
                        jerry. the chew that didn’t swerve
                        ​from his mouth said at least he’s not
                        a cripple. those buried
                        pronouns. if it carries organs, the
                        body is broken. the honorable
                        sacrifice could be to omit pain,
                        its ancestors. say turmeric at
                        least five times slow. the sound
                        of stick figure anatomy, the center of
                        you, gnarled tendril. a centipede re-
                        coils backward when exposed to
                        sunlight. at least you are
                        not dead. control is a humerus who
                        makes sense upon snapping. one
                        limb is a quarter. so barely tax. if only
                        cells grew like that, moss in the nerve
                        ​endings. you would be thankful.
 
the course it takes, planned out & considerate. darkness between joints, where not enough sugar
            copes. like family, blood is the hardest pain to remove. because. what’s a need if not
            another bone you can’t support. 


​
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Liam Strong (they/them) is a queer neurodivergent cripple punk writer who has earned their BA in writing from University of Wisconsin-Superior. They are the author of the chapbook Everyone’s Left the Hometown Show (Bottlecap Press, 2023), and assistant poetry editor for Kitchen Table Quarterly. You can find their poetry and essays in Vagabond City and new words{press}, among several others. They are most likely gardening and listening to Bitter Truth somewhere in Northern Michigan.