"Beatings for Breakfast"

i've been enlightened
by many smacks in the head,
glasses knocked off my face,
brain cells racing to be saved.

i know nothing of pleasure
but the sweet sensations
of hair-pulling and nail-digging
and the texture of a fresh scab.

now every limb bends backward,
appendages twist inward, and
i'm remarkably whole, stitches invisible.
healthy and clean, pure and pristine,

as prime for reproduction as they come,

battered until i knew better.
i've matched concealors for
puke-purple and black blotches
but mostly on the inside.

clearly
your parents didn't beat you often enough.