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my inheritance

December 21, 2016

is a genetic freak lineage blossoming
hyperactive cells          growing in the dark,
leeching on to organs with a power to
break the gods down. there is a magic
in this no test tubes can divine how to mimic,
no tears can break away. my father thinks
it is god growing inside his body, railing for a test
of faith beyond rage. his bathroom counter filled
with candles and biblical verses, a single page of
scripture triumphing over science.

who is the emperor of our bodies? what dreams
are left to be had/ tested inside sterile labs
that can wreak genocide on blood.

today you showed me a picture of the tumor,
precise lines of veins flesh and matter, your
forefinger pressed against the center, mapping a
divine biography marked out before you were born.

granny cut off her breast, my mother her ovaries
uncle ralton gave up his tongue and still passed on speechless
twelve months later hushed in his own white bed.

I don’t want my father to die.

you say one day they may cut you open, and I wonder
what it is they will take/ what part of my body will
I cut to live/who will witness the
exorcism of demons from my cells-
I can’t bury you.

To read more poetry by Saidy Agostini go to www.depoetry.com/poets/201601/01_saida_agostini.html.

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