I Realized I Missed that Particular Version of Me
by Beth Gordon

When I was 17 I told the doctor to take me off the anti-seizure medication. The side effects were daunting, a threat to future children born without frontal lobes, fingernails, the ability to suck in their own persistent saliva.

That’s enough, I declared, risking the smell of rotting oranges and the loss of my fourth sense. Also please remove the mole from my back, as large as a black cherry. Strangely sensual to my short list of lovers, it had to go.

His hands shook as he touched scalpel to skin, knowing his last day as a doctor might arrive at any moment. He held up a mirror to a mirror and showed me the result. It was deeper than I expected, he said, I cut out all I could.

PHOTO: The author with her brother, Bruce, taken in Summer of 1981, Lebanon, Illinois.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Although she received her MFA in Creative Writing from American University more than 25 years ago, Beth Gordon can best be described as an emerging writer. Half a dozen of her poems were published in various on-line literary journals in 2016. She is the proud mother of three very creative human beings, Matt, Alex and Elise, who fill her world with art and music. Beth resides in St. Louis, Missouri, and spends most weekends in Highland, Illinois, in the company of fellow writers, musicians, wine drinkers, and two dogs named Izzie and Max.