Writing

Evolution

by Hadley Franklin

Thursday April 5, 2007

In bio class, I split open a rat’s skull
with three fingers of each hand
digging between the lateral slice of skin,
prying apart the cranial seam.
I wore gloves, but the latex
didn’t numb the bone splintering,
or the hopeful resistance of muscle,
or the damp pearl of brain.
I was man, a meaty toolbox
of love, opposable thumbs,
fist-tight line breaks, and shame.
I was man, I was a brutal
half-nelson, a mean right hook,
an intoxicated fuck in the honey dark
of your parents’ bed.