This poem leaves the body behind and walks straight into the machinery of empire. The crocodile takes the hand, but it is the surgeon who reveals the deeper amputation: the severing of humanity from the act of conquest, the wound from the story we tell about it. And that grotesque little trophy hanging from the neck; what a brilliant, horrifying image of empire: mutilation turned into memorabilia, suffering renamed glory, theft baptised civilization.
The phantom itch at the end feels almost metaphysical, the body remembering what the mind has been instructed to forget. We can amputate the limb, bury the wound, build walls around the memory, and call the ruin progress. But what is severed from the body is not necessarily severed from consciousness.
Oh yes, thank you for seeing through my scenery once again. There is a reason the trappings are colonial; this isn't an indictment of a specific empire, but of conquest and exploitation. The monkey's paw is ultimately a nebulous tale of hubris and unexpected, Pyrrhic consequences, and it was an ideal way of telling a brief moral.
Contemporary discourse often fails to capture the layered, often interleaved complex of exploitation and suffering that defined colonial subjects. This poem restores some of that complexity, while still lodging a staunch critique of empire. In this sense, it hearkens back to great colonial dissidents like Joseph Conrad or Pramoedya Toer.
“The body remembering what the mind has instructed it to forget.” Dipti’s words reflected back, caught me. Love the imagery and strength of mind behind this is breathtaking. This poem is beautiful Mike! Thank you. 🙏🏻
I came away from this thinking that some wounds are inflicted once by teeth and then again by the meaning others hang around them. Brutal, vivid, darkly funny and beautifully intelligent. The hand is gone, but the Empire still finds a way to make the stump salute….
The moment that stayed with me was the hand being returned as a “trophy.” It turns the whole poem into something more than bodily horror—the loss becomes an indictment of the language used to make suffering sound noble.
The surgeon's mistake
was not the amputation.
It was advising him
to look away
from what remained.
That is how wounds
learn to fester
in secret.
— AËLA
Very much so
Thank you so much for reading AËLA!
They fail
Great poetry however! 😊
This poem leaves the body behind and walks straight into the machinery of empire. The crocodile takes the hand, but it is the surgeon who reveals the deeper amputation: the severing of humanity from the act of conquest, the wound from the story we tell about it. And that grotesque little trophy hanging from the neck; what a brilliant, horrifying image of empire: mutilation turned into memorabilia, suffering renamed glory, theft baptised civilization.
The phantom itch at the end feels almost metaphysical, the body remembering what the mind has been instructed to forget. We can amputate the limb, bury the wound, build walls around the memory, and call the ruin progress. But what is severed from the body is not necessarily severed from consciousness.
The hand may be gone.
The reckoning remains.
Oh yes, thank you for seeing through my scenery once again. There is a reason the trappings are colonial; this isn't an indictment of a specific empire, but of conquest and exploitation. The monkey's paw is ultimately a nebulous tale of hubris and unexpected, Pyrrhic consequences, and it was an ideal way of telling a brief moral.
Great poetry! 😊
Thank you Tammy!
Contemporary discourse often fails to capture the layered, often interleaved complex of exploitation and suffering that defined colonial subjects. This poem restores some of that complexity, while still lodging a staunch critique of empire. In this sense, it hearkens back to great colonial dissidents like Joseph Conrad or Pramoedya Toer.
High praise, thank you Joe!
I felt a spasm in my arm I swear! 🥹
You have to watch where you fill your canteen! 😅 Thank you for reading!
So much said so well, thank you
Thank you so much, John!
The sharply drawn details of each line pull me deeper into the experience. It’s unsettling and beautifully written. Thank you for letting us feel it.
Thank you fot reading, Sunshine!
Stunning and unsettling!
Thank you Nora!
"Stitched together phalanges" I have a strong feeling this is the first time this sentenced has been penned. love your work!
Thank you!
👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼
Thank you!
🫂
The last few lines stayed with me 🙂
Very nice pancake sushi 👍
Thank you V S
“The body remembering what the mind has instructed it to forget.” Dipti’s words reflected back, caught me. Love the imagery and strength of mind behind this is breathtaking. This poem is beautiful Mike! Thank you. 🙏🏻
Thank you, Elle! She has a gift for sifting through the language!
That was some efficient body horror!
Thank you Alicia!
I came away from this thinking that some wounds are inflicted once by teeth and then again by the meaning others hang around them. Brutal, vivid, darkly funny and beautifully intelligent. The hand is gone, but the Empire still finds a way to make the stump salute….
Thank you very much for reading and commenting! I look forward to exploring your catalog!
Thank you! Enter at your own risk :) The catalogue has teeth too.
That was grim/ enjoyed it totally
The moment that stayed with me was the hand being returned as a “trophy.” It turns the whole poem into something more than bodily horror—the loss becomes an indictment of the language used to make suffering sound noble.
Thank you Antonio!