Note to My Self: An Autoimmune Poem

Juggling on the Berlin Wall

If I left align my body
throw its edges
against a wall I
built inside
a membrane locking out
the memory of
excursion an up
and a down

 

Sea I am jealous
your tide mediocre
at least you
have the moon to blame

 

If I left align my body
hold it
still forehead to cement
against a cold thymus
he doesn’t recognize
me I’m pretty sure

 

Do you remember
when you remembered me
we were friends then you
grew too big maybe
too many too busy now
my teeth cut funny
angles in the sun
your eyebrows raised

 

If I left align my body
reset the roads
the routes that we
traced red and inflamed
forgetting who and why
dyeing coriander and
selling saffron
forgetting who and why
and me in the mix

 

You gave away my
lichen moss
my mold you said
nomad you nomad
don’t keep pets

 

If I left align my body
and I am straight
I am flat against
this column its white
border arm in arm
still waiting
for you
will you
come back to me
my own body
will you remember
my teeth the sun
the shape of dancing
the taste the tissue
me?

Karmel Allison
Karmel Allison

Karmel was born in Southern California, diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes at the age of nine, and educated at UC Berkeley. Karmel now lives in San Diego with her husband, where she is loving the sunshine, working in computational biology at the University of California, San Diego, and learning to use the active voice when talking about her diabetes.

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