passover 2015 

by channa goldman

i was told healing would come to me in the form of hard work and a quiet mouth. twenty-three
second opinions, elijah the prophet’s esophagus, and an insurance card tattoo. the doctor touches
me so gently that the air’s weight feels heavy in comparison and i thank him for removing the
sickness from my body with his hands. in many ways this feels like the most intimate
relationship i have ever had. he held my cancer in his palms and he has children whose names i
will never know. i miss the seder that year and but spend a lot of time thinking about the ten
plagues. i tell myself i will go on to love other people because the death of the first born missed
me. i will feel scalpel and tongue upon all the same skin. i will soften in the bloodstream and
harden in the hands. i will breath oxygen as it is formed in through one million lacerations
opened while on the ecstasy of getting that close to death but still never quite escaping it. i will
learn to live as it is always being mouthed and mirrored back at me.

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