On Biohazards:
It’s taken months
(Of watching the clock tick second by second)
It’s taken clarity of mind
(While scrubbing off the grime of seeping wounds now reopened)
It’s taken reflection
(While reminding myself that I am safely tucked away in 2025 amidst echoes of 1995)
The words have surfaced
Like clearing layers of chiseled stone away from ancient bones buried beneath decades of defense mechanisms
They revealed themselves slowly
Yet
All at once
Biohazard
Stamped under my chin like a warning
I told myself
“This will keep me safe.”
“This will keep them away.”
“This will make me ugly enough to ignore.”
He always said that.
“Brightly colored animals are venomous. That’s what your stupid hair colors and tattoos are. Proof you’re poison.”
I’ve bared my teeth and I have hissed and they still line up to touch what they don’t intend to hold
In time the meaning taking shape
Like a ship cutting through fog only inches from the shore
Bitten despite every attempt to evade
“I’m ok. It didn’t get me.”
That’s what they say in the movies, right?
Pulling down my sleeves to cover the wounds
To convince them I’m still safe to live among the healthy and unblemished
Ignoring the spread of infection
Black threads crawling up my skin
Road maps leading to sources of decay
Wondering if anyone has noticed
The smell
My unfocused gaze
My quickening breath
My slowing, shuffling gait
My flinch at any flash of teeth
(You know what to do, Samantha)
I try cautery
Burning the edges
Sealing the poison inside
(You know what to do, Samantha)
I try irrigation
Bathing in frigid water
Filled with salt
(You know what to do, Samantha)
I try diatomaceous earth
Pastes thick as regret
Slathered over blood and puss
(You know what must be done, Samantha)
Debridement
Cut away the bad
Before it seeps into whatever is left
Keeping me human
Before the urge
To bite
To consume
To feed
Overtakes me
In a frenzy
Before I start speaking
My mother’s tongue
Peeling away acrid strips of dripping gauze
To reveal every millimeter of diseased tissue
A collection of rotting limbs
I refused to acknowledge
Lest I be cast out
To join the horde
Scrawling a cautionary doodle
At the apex of my mandible
“Don’t open
Dead inside”
I know what to do
This time