Written by Duckie Harwell

Art by Elizabeth Illustrates

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.