Watching Home Movies After My Double Mastectomy
Inside her small body lives every answer to every obstacle. No maps are necessary. She is the map.
Before this was ever known to be the color of a video ending, it was the color of a calm blue sea.
Beauty and the Beast.
My body is a container I am stuck in.
It chains me here. Where it is anchored, I must be too.
My body is a map of crimson roads.
Where do they lead?
I am fiction.
It is with the spine that we divide the animal kingdom in two: vertebrate and invertebrate.
It is with the spine as metaphor that we divide the strong from the weak.
Sometimes when I think about measuring my relationship to nonfiction, I think about this:
I am your possible future. At least let this suffering be purposeful. At least let this horror help you to save yourself.
My body aches for lost breasts today; it will ache for lost ovaries tomorrow. This is how I relinquish myself: bit by bit, part by part.
Look at these nuts we’ve made, Look at these two little people with countless little worlds inside of them.
Rebecca Nison is a writer and visual artist from Brooklyn. She is the author and illustrator of If We'd Never Seen the Sea, a book of graphic poetry. Her work has appeared in F(r)iction, Pank, Weave, The Bushwick Review, and other publications. She teaches writing at Parsons The New School for Design and holds an MFA from The New School. She's currently at work on a novel, a collection of short stories, and a memoir. Follow on instagram @beckoclock. To read and see more, visit rebeccanison.com.
Enter your email address to receive notifications for author Rebecca Nison
Confirmation link sent to your email to add you to notification list for author Rebecca Nison
More in this series
On the day when two pink lines stared up at me, I wondered which set of events I had set in motion. A baby? Or not a baby?
I am at the nether reaches of my fertility, curious as to what I can still grow. This remains a shock.