We decided to forgo the usual
exchange of gifts, and instead
engage the services of a therapist
to help us stitch the two halves
of our lives back together.
I imagined a seamstress,
who might tell us
that the fabric of love is indivisible,
woven with the tensile strength
of otherworldly materials
from what neither eye nor heart
But he, I feared, longed for a surgeon
who would teach us instead how —
with training and precision —
we might sever the remaining ligaments
and tendons that bind a dying limb
to the body,
how we might dam up
the rivers of blood so the heart
can no longer supply the phantom member
that, once discarded, the mind
somehow continues to feel.
— AE Hines
Originally published in Third Wednesday, Vol. XI, No. 1, Winter 2018 issue.