somewhere there is a manual

with step-by-step instructions on how to glue fingers on at the right angle

and how to cradle lungs between rib cages

but sometimes

this manual is lost,

kicked under the bed with old water bottles

leaking onto the carpet

although,

you were told that if a faulty model came out,

maybe 1/10000, then that was ok.

fidelity was malleable enough so

you don’t bother to get your fingers wet this time.

maybe the liver got folded in wrong 

or maybe you left too much space between the skin and the nail

but it didn’t matter.

something was wrong,

this was wrong.

21 years and a recall notice later,

her voice is too loose in her throat

and her knees are too bruised

from begging

someone to use the instructions.

maybe you’ll bother to find the manual 

but is it already too late?

repairs are expensive and diagnostics take hours,

she is too busy placing

drops of water where her saliva should be

for you to figure out if you

put her heart in the right place

so you sacrifice a malleable girl

for an important lesson

and remember to use the manual

so next week's model

doesn't need to be updated.

-------------------------------------

Sophie Smith is an amateur queer poet located in Montreal. She is currently finishing her cognitive science degree at McGill University, and afterwards plans on moving to Australia to escape the cold. In her spare time, you can find her dancing, cuddling with her cats, or contemplating the meaning of her dreams.