What the Hands Do About All of These Parts: Advice from a 14-Year-Old Friend

by Lois Ann Yamanaka
From "Parts", Saturday Night at the Pahala Theatre

Take the needle. Take it.
Cut your arm. Cut.
See. You feel no pain
'cause you already so-wa inside.
Keep going. Make plenny lines,
as much as you can take.
Feel good, yeah?
Feel icy, yeah,
when the needle break your skin?
Push um deep, the needle,
till you see the white part
of your meat. Spread um--
spread the cut you just made
before the blood get hard.
Look inside. Trippy, yeah,
the small blood drops?
How's your head?
Feeling white?
Kind of gray, yeah the feeling?
Going away, the pain inside,
'cause you getting numb.
Your whole body not throbbing yet?
I remember the first time
I did this. Felt so good
when my whole body was going
and the blood started dripping
on my leg and my friend
wen' tell me taste um,
'cause that's me coming out
of myself. Tasted like rust.
And I wen' forget about all the shit
that was happening to me.
My father took me emergency that day.
That was the first time
I seen him cry.
No. No need towel.
Lie down. Let the blood
drip on the sidewalk.
Then we write her name
with the blood
and when dry,
she going know
you was here
and she going know
how much you love her.

It's Depressing Poetry Day today. However, sarcasm aside, I like this poem a lot.