Constant Reassembly Required

By Lauren Everdell

Monday took her eyes. Making no bones about burning them out on tides of acid tears, until she sank into unseeing. Tuesday took her teeth. Plinking like piano key chips onto the kitchen tiles. And Wednesday took her tongue. Thursday sucked the guts of her, like slurping an oyster. All her courage gulped away. But Friday took no more than her smile.

Saturday skinned her alive. Raw nerves at the mercy of the world. Sunday gathered her pieces, ready to begin again.

Lauren writes, she says, “because her heart would bust out through her ribs if she didn’t.”

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