Strong Verse
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Poetry By
  Helena Bell

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.

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