ANATOMY

by Aris Keshav

It feels good to get things done. In four hours of
television the doctors save eight lives, break
up, have babies, sue each other, have more
babies, save another life, and teach me in voiceover

the joys. Of lying. In the sun. 

I feel meh about the whole endeavour lately:
having a body, wearing it, watering it.
Wondering if it's too late to grow to the other
side with Derek, Jackson, Richard, Alex—

Lately I've been going on dates with boys.
I'm interested, yeah, as a student of form:
how to style baggy trousers, wear silver
earrings without watering down the gender. 

I can't watch them over sandwiches. I take 
messy mouthfuls and voice my life vaguely
towards the sun.       Yeah… 
I'm not interested. It's a question of form

and feeling. Or lack of. Sometimes 
I lounge in bed and watch them work at
healing. See how cutting transforms hurt
to whole. I dream of my next surgery.

“What else do you do?” he asks. I tell him 
about my part-time gig at the hospital, 
then forget to correct myself. He’s 
impressed. It’s too much fun. Well, watching

television is serious business. Eyes
working overtime to find the one.

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ABOUT THE CREATOR

Aris Keshav is a poet and Cégep teacher in Tio’tia:ke. His writing appears in The New Quarterly, The Malahat Review, Contemporary Verse 2, Plenitude, and two chapbooks, Taunting August (2022) and Seasonably Warm (2025). He enjoys lounging, gossip, and dancing.

Instagram: @ambiance.queer

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