Written by Duckie Harwell
I grew up in a gaping wound
Jagged, bloody, deep.
Some say my mother did it with a knife
Some say my father did it with his teeth
Some say it happened the day I came
That I ripped them right in two
Because I came out sideways
And my chest beats out of tune
Its pumps are made of mold
the chambers full of clot
And when it beats it makes a sound
That makes you think of rot
So you see it’s not my fault
That my family tore apart
They were looking for a suture
But infection’s in my heart
Duckie Harwell
Duckie Harwell resides in Fort Worth, Texas where they are taking some time off from college to pursue publications in both prose and poetry. They have a keen eye for detail and a clear, unique voice. They have a passion for reading, writing, and helping authors works blossom into beautifully finished pieces.