Winner of WANTED #7. Read all the entries.

An eight-year-old from the neighborhood
is the first to find me. I feel just terrible because
my guts are hanging out all over the place.
Tonight he will dream of me in these tattered slacks,
addressing his class during show and tell.
I point out the various parts of my body
that are missing. For instance, here is where
my left eye used to be. This is what it looks like
behind your eye. This is my shoulder socket,
scraped clean by boars. The children politely raise
their hands together at once, all with the same question.

Front page image by Bundesarchiv, Bild 183-S77546 / CC-BY-SA.

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