To Avulse:
Olivia Garard
We were taught another word for it:
degloving, like a delicate plucking,
one finger after another, counting
off exposed, the skinned-soft gauntlet
thrown down. How can you caress
the carcass of your self? Avulsion:
the sudden separation of lands
by water. Rivers, diverted, sever
holdings. Skinless, do I still float?
Sun burns the fleshless, freshly
unguarded form—a tearing, torn.
How do you hold onto your own hand?
Olivia A. Garard served as an active duty Marine Officer from 2014-2020. She is a member of the Military Writers Guild and tweets at @teaandtactics. She has published poems with War, Literature & the Arts, Inkstick Media, War on the Rocks, and The Wrath-Bearing Tree.
“To Avulse:” explores a kind of violence that leaves both the shell and the meat exposed.