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Under a microscope, we inspect small,
Red vessels. Sallow skin and a wrinkled smile
Turned inside out to form an unfamiliar
Body visible only under a lens; we pick up
This bloody piece of ourselves, feed it to another
Glassy-eyed machine, and wait for it to be spit
Back out in the form of the most important details
Of the human condition – numbers which may
Save this body but which we cannot give
To our neighbor who continues to pick tomatoes
 
From the garden when all the red fruits and even
The yellow ones are gone, the yard filled
With only bitter green leftovers: silent owners
Of the fence post who dare the bold passerby to obey
Their sign, pluck them from this post, and slice them
Into bitter chunks for sauce or salsa, smashing
Their seeds and spines into puss to feed us – 
Daring us to try to fix this body with unripe skin,
While we count days and flakes and wait for spring’s
Red dots to fill the howling hollow of our ailing stomach.  

Rosa Canales is an aspiring writer with roots in Eau Claire and the Chippewa Valley. After attending Memorial High School, she studied at Denison University in Ohio, graduating this past May with a degree in English Literature and German. Her work has been published in Kissing Dynamite Poetry, Lammergeier, The Sigma Tau Delta Review, Capsule Stories, and others. 

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