Kristy Bowen, Radio Ocularia #4, 2012 (Artist Website)
Paper collage
When they brought me the bone,
it was crushed like ore, un-
recognizable as hind leg anymore.
The surgeons had cast their spell.
They said it with a stitch.
Oh what they made invisible:
my overcoat, three pups,
spread wing of ilium. My nipples
stayed plump as thimbles,
ready for the tug. The moon
lights the sky. What am I
to say when asked if the clouds
resemble fetuses? Love,
my master, nothing.