I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO SPELL SPONDYLOLISTHESIS by Mike Harper • Cleaver Magazine
I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO SPELL SPONDYLOLISTHESIS by Mike Harper Your numb legs were just like Granny’s in her iron lung, and you folded slowly onto yourself before they put you back like expensive origami. This was when I learned what an HMO is, and what it’s like to see both mom and dad cry at the same time. This is also why you will never ride a bike, and always set off metal detectors. For a split second, you were just like Frida, mangled in your fluid paints, your snake vertebrae tempting the future like Eve Mike Harper fled to Oregon right after getting a degree in English and Comparative Literature from one of those biggish schools in Southern California. His poetry has been featured in Burningword, Dash Literary Journal, Hibbleton Independent, Lexicon Polaroid, New Verse News, Origami Condom, Verdad, and a handful of zines and chapbooks. He now lives beneath your couch, hoping you won’t look … chop! chop! read more!
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