by Rochelle Ratner
If you don't like it throw the damn thing out, her family told her. Which included two nurses. Buy another one. They'd also, of course, tried to convince her from the start to have implants made from cells elsewhere in her body, and certainly a tummy tuck wouldn't have gone unnoticed, but she refused that pain. She didn't throw it out, she shoved it in the back of the closet, thinking if she gained weight it might look better. But she didn't gain, she lost. The second prosthesis was smaller and less rounded. The third was so thin and light it was all but transparent. But her body didn't even have strength to hold it on. The moment the coffin was closed they threw the damn things out, along with two wigs (one synthetic) and a dozen turbans and cancer hats. It never crossed their minds there might be other people who could use these. People living just blocks away who couldn't afford to buy their own. People they passed on the street who looked so God-damned healthy in their $5.00 imitation Pashima scarves you wanted to pull an Isadora Duncan on them.
Rochelle Ratner's latest poetry books include Leads (Otoliths Press, 2007), Balancing Acts (Marsh Hawk Press, 2006), Beggars at the Wall (Ikon, 2006) and House and Home (Marsh Hawk Press, 2003). She is the author of fifteen previous poetry collections and two novels (Bobby’s Girl and The Lion’s Share) both published by Coffee House Press). More information and links to her writing on the Internet can be found on her homepage.
