This is the Life of a Redhead



Thursday, July 22, 2010

There Are Three Birthmarks On My Left Leg

Purposely did a lot of repetition. Does it work?


There are three birthmarks on my left leg. They weigh it down, and I walk with my big toe dragging behind me. The nail has worn down to a stub. Sometimes I hear it scrape against gravel, wrinkle my nose as I smell the smoke trailing from the embers that jump from my big toe when the friction gets too rough.

One birthmark looks like a tooth, a jagged molar with a corona. Solar flares fly out of crown. The roots are short and stubby and stubborn. On its side it takes the form of a bald eagle with mangy ruffled feathers. The beak is rooted to the majestic crown of the mangy bald eagle.

There is a welt on my left thigh. It covers my smallest birthmark on my left leg. It’s a subtle stain from blush wine. White Zinfandel bubbles up and returns to its origin as Crljenak Kaštelanski, bloody and bitter. The welt overpowers my smallest birthmark on my left leg and turns my left thigh into a bloody and bitter mess.

Dragged along on my left foot, face down and hidden from the sun, is the speckled birthmark. It is a gentle swoop, an arch that flattens as it crashes into the First metatarsal. Tattooists tremble at its detail. The darkened pigment is cloistered together, and only one speck stands exiled from the group. It stands alone trying to find the sun, but it is dragged along on my left foot, narrowly missing gravel and fading in color and from my memory.

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