Sean William Dever
Place me in a storefront window
on Newbury St. preferably, All Saints,
but leave me naked.
Let my pod and CGM drape
under the spotlights
for the passersby to gawk,
pause, and photograph the flaws
chiseled on the backs of my arms,
stomach, and thighs. Where
scar tissue and bruises
rule my skin,
where insulin rashes
turn to insulin scars.
Prop me so my right arm extends,
the holes in my fingers greet those
who dare to window-shop close enough
see small caverns of darkness
and dried blood, face to face
with the mortality that capitalism
sweeps away, as bodies pile
upon one another
in front of CVS and Walgreens.
Vials of Novolog $289 (up $200
from eight years ago)
while the screeches
of garbage trucks removing
the diseased from your eyes,
eyes trained by the government.
When the season changes
and this look is outdated,
tuck me in the basement,
among other trends of past years,
place issues of The New York Times
at my feet, issues that illuminate
the growing number of deaths per year
of those without enough insulin
to keep ketoacidosis from poisoning
their blood in days, or hours – dust me
when time begins to show and nerves
further purple my feet.
Change my pod every three days
or throw out my PDM
so the repeated alarms don’t
interrupt your day.
But whatever you choose,
leave me naked.
Sean William Dever is a Boston-based poet, educator, and activist currently in his last year of his MFA in Creative Writing with a focus in Poetry at Emerson College. He teaches writing at Emerson and Boston Architectural College. In addition, he also works as a Professional ESL Tutor at Northeastern University. He is the author of the chapbook, I’ve Been Cancelling Appointments with My Psychiatrist for Two Years Now, forthcoming May 2019, published by Swimming with Elephants Publications.