Still Life w/ Neck
When I was little I put my hands around my neck, just to see what being choked felt like. The next minute, I felt embarrassed for having tried it.
Veins are blood but beautiful.
In sixth grade, in addition to getting a new jean jacket and my period, I got a ball in the left side of my neck.
The white lab coat disguised as a woman said it was fine. Six years later — still, fine. “It looks like it’s by a vein but in reality it’s much more superficial than that.”
In college my neck was kissed, nicked with teeth and purposefully bruised. Bruises are rarely beautiful.
I never bruised my neck as a child.
The ball has since been removed (and according to the lab coat never really mattered). Cysts are common and the body is built for healing.
I can still see the vein, a greenish thread that’s called the jugular. Injury to the jugular usually results in death.
But veins are blood and beautiful.
Even though they’re flowing they seem still. Even though they’re deep they appear superficial.
I like it when I can wear a necklace and not stop to worry:
My neck will be the thing that kills me.
