Cartilage

They put it inside of me

It was never mine.

But it became

            mine.

I own these chalky white pills

I cut them

in half, I crush them I crush them

Milky powder

run down milky spine

I pull it out of my mouth

keep pulling and pulling,

and it keeps coming

out of my mouth, like the

magician with the colorful silk scarves

            pulls it out of his sleeve

I pull it out of my mouth.

But I pull too much

too much out

            The stuff they put inside of me

            comes out

I cut it

Cut through the cartilage

            It softly snaps

like the part of the chicken’s carcass

my mother used to pick out

pick out for me to eat

I bite

I cut

I tear

I crush

This part that isn’t mine