Hollie Dugas

The Anatomy of Trauma

PUBLISHED IN FOLIO 2023: VOL. 38.

There you are, in the mirror again
looking back at me with your shiny
twisted flesh. Scarred, hungry,
and already old, your heart
squirms blue in my chest
like a colony of wasps. This head
is unbearable too, ugliness
rooted in each follicle of hair.
There is much of this anatomy
I’d like to invalidate. Tell me,
what was it that was brave enough
to take a bite out of you?
In dreams, you show me yourself,
exquisite, winched from the meat
of my bones—a separate
and abstract fiend perching
on the shell of my brain, feeding
on insects, cobwebs, and things
turned gelatinous. But how
human you look staring at me
from this little square
of lavatory light, how useless
and stupid our claws.
I endure you, my little creature
of pain and numbness. Surrender
your name to mine and
I’ll explain what came before
you, like any god, lead you
from one fresh body to the next.