Self Sacrificial
I have made a life
out of cutting out ribs
to build your spine.
My lungs have little to hold on to,
their hands slipping
on tissued flesh,
their safety net of marrow
charged with sheltering
someone else’s vitality.
I promise I won’t be too long
[if I run out of ribs,
my torso will fold over
and start plucking from my calves–
I think my femur is sturdy].
I just have to inscribe
my grievances
in the skin of this eulogy
before I go back
to giving
you
everything.
oh, are you thirsty…?
I’m so sorry,
I should’ve noticed
your empty chalice.
let’s fill it with the contents
of mine
[apologies for the metallic taste
but at least it’s unalloyed].
Lidabel A. Avila is a junior English creative writing major at SUNY Geneseo with previous publications in the college’s Mint Magazine and Iris Magazine. She mostly works on poetry connected to her Afro-Caribbean background, but indulges in speculative fiction and screenwriting as well. When not writing, Lidabel can be found sketching up future characters for her stories or practicing new drawing styles and techniques.