This poem is taken from Stand 248, 23(4) December 2025 - February 2026.

Sean O'Brien Five Poems
To My Body
      after Menno Wigman

Body, my body, how can you tell
how many strangers’ hands have touched you now?
Death was once a barber’s clammy grip,
the chill of a stethoscope.
Later you were broken by a dentist.
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