She was just a girl br twelve br bronze and thin br like Degas Dancer br her eyes told a truth br her mouth couldn't utter br her shell hand-made br artificial and imperfect br cracked enough br for me to see br what she once was br a woman with no breasts br who pissed like a man br but she had no penis br she had lost blood br traded for food br I tore out half of my heart br and placed it in her palm br she broke her form frowned br she was dying then br a teenage woman who br having been hunter br warrior and prey br survived scattered into br rugged pieces recognized br only by the same br as necessary parts br A work in progress br who would transform br breaking and reshaping br the mold until it represented br the whole horror br of refined beautybr br Susan Kingbr br