Nicole Monaghan
38 degrees
is how the surgeon describes it
her spine’s larger curve
idiopathic (no known cause)
neurotransmitters sending a message to twist,
to go in unexpected directions
just like life
a mystery at its core
that her spine snakes sideways
rather than follow a predictable path
it meanders,
takes a turn between heart and hip, makes an S
The x-rays are funny
like spooky Halloween greeting cards
she could have drawn
more precisely
than the machine can register
she could render every vertebra
even the ones that rebel
and lead the curve,
and the ones that follow and
hide behind the others
those would be the trickiest to capture
but she would
And that’s the irony
how precise
she is
in everything
with her Blackwing Pencils
(the world’s best ones, we’ve read!)
that Japanese cedar gliding along her paper
held between elegant fingers
with the perfect nails everyone thinks are fake
at the exact right angle
38 degrees
is a chilly day
but it’s balmy
below her skin
and glowing in her heart
her skeleton’s on an adventure
bent on
going places
as she desires to
explore
other cultures
take a wrong turn in nature
amongst the monstera plants
in the jungles of Hawaii
create jewelry that doesn’t
look mass-produced
that’s imperfect
or perfectly asymmetrical
Who is anyone to say
the exact right angle
at which
her bones should be set?
Bio:
Nicole (Scarpato) Monaghan’s great grandparents on both sides emigrated from Italy. Her dad is so olive his 5 o’clock shadow is present at every hour, and her son looks like him. Her eighteen year old daughter is especially proud of her Italian Heritage. Nicole’s work has appeared in many venues both online and in print. This poem was inspired by her sixteen year old daughter. Please visit here.
OVUNQUE SIAMO 