Written By: Pam Avoledo

She has an edge inside her skeleton poking out from her ribs. It appeared after she coughed and coughed for months. The boys kissed it, saying they could make her better. She cuts them in half with a twist of her hip. She sees the tiny fractures in their legs, listens as their muscles contract and watches their irises search for the light.

She tries to piece them together, stitching with precise seams. But the lines don’t ever match up. A cockeyed hand, uneven toes, a slanting back. They aren’t who they were before. They take her needle and thread with them as they go, saying it was nice getting to know her.


Pam Avoledo’s work can be found at pamavoledo.com

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