Being Dismembered

These are my responses to the Writober prompt post Fear of Dismemberment.

OctPoWriMo

It’s Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub, so head over and link up your poem and read and comment on the other dVerse poets’ offerings.

Dismemberment Arguments

I don’t want to write about dismemberment.
I am afraid of dismemberment : a foot to guinea worm, an eye
to a chemical spill, a finger or two to a bansaw, a breast
or leg to cancer. Could there be a different definition
of dismemberment?  Like Diss member meant

I don’t say “Diss” for “this”, or use the word “diss”
meaning put down, but if it keeps me from
writing about dismemberment I’d say
What diss member meant was
our group is sharp and meaty
Don’t diss what a member meant to diss group
separating diss member meant we’re missing
artichokes and slimy oysters
diss member’s dismemberment left us
one woman down for the fund raiser,
one runner down for the three-legged race,
one gambler down for the one-armed bandit

Doesn’t dimemberment save lives?
Maybe diss member who got dismembered
got severe frostbite which led to gangrene
and amputation was the only thing to save her
or diss member who wasn’t dismembered
was trapped in a rock slide and was stuck
where no one could get to him
leaving a hand behind was the only way to get free

And these days prosthetics are so sci-fi
they can even be controlled by your mind
We can adapt and change. The brain
compensates for new realities.
But why the phantom limbs?
I’m still afraid of dimemberment.
I’m not going to write about dismemeberment.

Writober Flash Fiction

Crucial Limbs

Victor woke up shivering yet feeling like his blood was on fire, heart pulsing in his head, his neck, his wrists. A crash and high pitched squeaks made his skin crawl. Imagining rats crawling on him, he jumped up and looked around the dark alley, but didn’t recognize anything.

A hazy memory of Saffron, the exotic raven-haired, porcelain-skinned  woman who was so eager last night, excited him all over again. Yet no blood rushed anywhere. Weak-kneed, he fell against a brick wall and felt thanks for its rough coolness against his cheek. His friend, the brick wall lead him out of the alley toward the sounds of morning: traffic, shopkeepers opening up spraying puke and piss from the sidewalk, people rushing to work talking on their cell-phones. 

The alley’s shade felt like a separate world, as if he had woken up into a new dimension and was stumbling back toward the world he knew. As he stepped closer to the rectangle of light  ahead, Victor suddenly felt afraid. Maybe he was worried who would see him. He couldn’t remember ever having a hangover this bad; he must be in an embarrassing state of dishevel. But he had to get home somehow, and that meant leaving this alley. He stepped out into the sunlight, squinting in the glare. The morning sun already hot and humid, hit him like a wall of fire.

He smelled smoke and looked all around before he realized that his arms were aflame. One of the shopkeepers turned his sidewalk spraying hose on him, and dialed 911. In the ambulance they covered him in wet wool blankets to stop the flames that kept erupting anywhere that sunlight hit him. After waking from the medically-induced coma, the doctor explained that they had removed his horribly burned arms, but were able to save his legs. Victor wasn’t really listening. All he could think about was the blood pulsing in the doctor’s neck. He was so hungry. As the doctor checked his vitals, Victor kept trying to sink his teeth in, but he couldn’t push himself up, or pull the doctor close enough.

Halloween Photography Challenge

Inspired by today’s example poem and my answers to What color is dismemberment? I combined pink, yellow, and gray half-color filters, and used different body part filters I’ve cut over the years. I had fun incorporating some fall leaves into the photos or the security light across the street, then combined the photos into a gallery.

Happy Writober!

Getting in the Halloween Spirit?

See you tomorrow!