Lying on the thin white cotton pillow of the procedure room / the nurse hands me the stress ball / swaddled in a blue latex glove / a nod to the virus still rampaging through the unvaccinated / The ball is for me to mash in my clenched fist / so I don’t break my own teeth / when she applies the heatgun to my face / fries my dermis with radiofrequency waves / The sorority president sales rep promised me it wouldn’t hurt that bad to cook my face / so eager to charge me a month’s rent for this torture / My heart an armadillo at her singsong lie / but I chose to come here anyway / I silenced the animal knowledge of my body / laid its softness on the altar of my vanity / The device is designed to vibrate to disguise the agony it inflicts / trick my nerves into missing the cauterization of my flesh / like hiding bitter poison in sweet wine / It doesn’t work / I feel every white-bladed stab / thousands / over two hours / Muscles taut with queasy anticipation / I try to slow my breath / to meditate / but I can’t stop moaning / I can’t stop writhing / my feet kicking in time / with those too-long pulses / I keep taking breaks to sob hot tears into that cheap pillow / but I don’t know how to stop / The nurse tells me I’m doing amazing / that I’m taking it so well / I want to tell her I am not well at all / I’m dying / I am a bad feminist / I am putting myself on the rack / I’m applying my own thumbscrews / for the sin of seeing my mother / staring back at me in the mirror / I want to peel off my burning skin / I want to run raving / raging into the twilit street / but I can’t stop now / I don’t know how.
Photo by Darius Bashar on Unsplash
