[untitled] or tending to the beautiful in a broken world

i want so bad to stop writing about the
brokenness. my friend said something earlier
about tending to the beautiful in a broken
world and i thought how different our worlds
must break. i’ve tried to imagine the words here
from someplace else. i am thinking about water
from a spring. walking barefoot in red dirt.
horses trailing behind me without saddles. i fell
mounting a horse in california a few years ago
my foot slipped between stool and stirrup.
my back flat against the ground. i could see under
the horse. how a belly extends down when a
body is long. when a butcher slaughters goats
or anything with a similar body they cut from
hind leg to throat. all four legs held tightly apart.
there isn't much more i can say about this. about
something being cut open so easily. i remember
waking up from surgery. trying to make out the
numbers on the clock. if i knew how long i was
under. i could make sense of the damage. the clock
too far. i whispered to the nurse i felt cold everywhere.
animals must feel cold after that first cut. my sister is
somehow standing between the nurse’s station and my
bed smiling. but not happy. i could see the worry
stuff itself into her hands then her hands in her pockets. i
asked if it was quick and she said no. and i knew then
what it meant to be slaughtered. to be cut from throat
to belly. only the parts needed taken from body to bag.
to some place i’ll never see again. yes, the world is broken.
my body a betrayal. sometimes still beautiful.

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Arnisha Royston is a poet from Los Angeles. She holds a BA from UCLA and a MFA from SDSU. Arnisha is currently the Tickner Writing Fellow at the Gilman School in Baltimore, Maryland. Her poetry is published in literary journals such as Michigan Quarterly Review, North American Review, Rhino, and Phoebe. Recently receiving nominations for a Pushcart and Best of the Net, Arnisha is excited to work towards the publication of her first manuscript.