print previewback JENNIFER FRANKLIN
Amor Fati
When I sat, small,
in the operating room,
cowering before his knife,
begging against the trach
he threatened, I did not
know that these cuts would
save more than my body.
I would not negate any of it
now if I could. I carry
the discomfort like a koan
in my mouth, mindful
of the days I lost unliving.
I love this ruined body, my
numb neck, the way it led
me back to the world from
dormancy as if it were leashed
to the resounding yes of the
universe. With your hands
on my neck’s scars, I love
them. You trace the long path
of my survival with your
whole tongue. If Nietzsche’s
demon appears, I can finally
greet him as a god proclaiming
beauty. I will speak with my
ravaged tongue, cut me again
and again, make me whole. 
Amor Fati
Lavinia, Afterwards
Philomela After the Metamorphosis