MY BUDDY “My Buddy, my Buddy, no Buddy quite so true.” —Gus Kahn She pronounces body like buddy, and I try to remember the last time I thought of my body as a friend. A maroon firebolt streaks down my belly, pointing to the spot where that black seed tried to take root to bear its rotten fruit. My body was no buddy. Saboteur, more likely. You have to read to the end, I remind myself, to get the whole story, the part where the immune system comes riding in on a white horse, the part where muscle fibers knit themselves together, mend the empty satchel of my womb, the part where cells take tiny tools and repair the wreckage wrought by chemo. My body is no buddy—it’s a warrior, the hero of an epic battle between being and being no more. Dear body, I owe you a damn victory parade.
Yvonne Zipter is the author of the poetry collections The Wordless Lullaby of Crickets (forthcoming), Kissing the Long Face of the Greyhound, The Patience of Metal, and Like Some Bookie God, the nonfiction books Diamonds Are a Dyke’s Best Friend and Ransacking the Closet, and the Russian historical novel Infraction.
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