tug of war

i pull my arm out of its socket 
& carry it around like a baby.
i want to be taken apart softly.
i watch a butcher work for notes
on technique. we pluck the turkey
for all the boys. 
in the school yard there is a rope.
the teachers are eating their lunches 
& the kids are throwing goldfish 
in the creek. handfuls of light.
a sword lodged in the neck 
of an oak. it is boys against girls
inside my stomach. then i have 
the insect mind which tells me 
i need to grow moth wings & fly 
to the nearest street lamp to break my skull.
the rope is coarse. the rope is made
from eye lashes. i never wanted to be
a child. i just wanted to be a prophet.
standing in a tree & threatening
to grow wings. the teachers set down 
their yogurt to plead, "no no no."
heaving the rope. this way this way.
bracing against the slightly muddy earth.
everything is 2001. the baby is always
just an arm until it's not & it's
a little dream home. plastic hair.
i need help putting my elbow back.
the rope is a copper head & we all slide off
& let go. run screaming except for me
& my curious gender. stand there
with the snake. between girl & boy
is a danger gender. that is where 
i live. the snake promises 
to swallow me whole.
i run away before he can. 
the butcher is tired. his knife 
is covered with ruby blood. 
perfect little turkey breasts 
& perfect little legs. as if the body 
were always meant to be dissected 
in parcels like this.