The various stages of familiarity—
talking first, then talking the clothes off each other, taking your pulse
as you’re taking mine
I can’t feel it to be honest, but you seem ok
Pretty alive, anyway
Full of smart things to say, which I can only nod to,
intelligently, and wonder
if I’m doing this to prove that I’m better
or worse than I thought
A moment like
the moment when I accidentally chewed on my tongue
instead of food and realized
how powerful and dangerous I am
how hard my brain must work to keep
the soft parts of me safe
from the sharp parts
Amelie Meltzer is a San Francisco native studying in Pittsburgh, PA. She is a medical student and activist working to address racial bias in healthcare and promote the needs of queer and gender nonconforming patients. She writes poetry and nonfiction. Her writing appears in Ploughshares, New Ohio Review, Roanoke Review, Stoneboat, and The Hippocrates Prize Anthology. Twitter: @AmelieMeltzer
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