Other People's Art

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Wagner in the Desert - The New Yorker

Cardiac, by Madeleine Wattenbarger

Since October I have grown
to thin and to bone. I drink coffee and thrill to feel
the caffeine have its way with my body. Outside everyone dances
and I feel a hand on my hip, but I do not answer.
Now I know that he cannot make my pulse
pound at my collarbone. And I have learned to decide
who touches my hips and my bones. Outside
everyone dances to the sound of their pulse.
I wear my veins like garlands
and laugh. My heart does more than keep time.