Published on: 10/5/2004 I Asked What it Looked Like
Frankenstein, Daddy told me when he arrived at midnight with fresh socks, underwear, medical degree.
I was wrapped in blood starched scrubs, pain killers, a need for doctors' opinions.
His face: pale as mine driving too long after the patrolman's call, hands orange from a Cheetos dinner, eyes counting stitches one by one as a new-born's father checks fingers and toes.