“Betwixt and Between”
Wendy Balconi
Collage
The Human Animal goes to school
to learn about other animals
that populate our planet.
When her teacher assigns everyone
an oral report spotlighting an invertebrate,
she chooses to study the tapeworm.
At the center of her neon poster board,
she fashions a sticky worm out of
rolled-up segments of Scotch tape.
Tape. Such a flexible word! It’s so funny
because her present life threatens to unravel
without the aid of supply closet adhesives.
Tapeworms are parasites that attack
the human body, stealing away its nutrients,
erasing this fragile illusion of safe spaces.
When another parasite attacks her anatomy,
The Human Animal loses herself on permanent display.
She fails to fight or fly. She freezes. She chokes.
She doesn’t understand why everyone just watches.
She understands even less why they all look away.
Is a room still a room if no one thought to build any walls?
She stands before her fellow human animals,
ready to share everything she’s learned
about the most disgusting invertebrate ever:
It’s her. Not the creatures on her poster.
Now the whole class knows
she has no backbone.
The Human Animal’s mother joins a cult
soon after her daughter departs the nest.
The leader is an old woman who claims to heal
any sickness or disease by releasing positive energy
from her fingertips. If you become a follower,
she can teach you how to perform miracles, too.
The Human Animal’s mother begins attending meetings,
more and more as she rises up the ranks.
All she wants is to save her daughter,
but the elders tell her she isn’t yet powerful enough.
“Bring the child to me,” the leader says.
So they call her back home,
shepherding The Human Animal
to a strange house with a backyard lake.
She lies face-down on a velvety couch
while the leader hovers open hands
over invisible wounds, banishing them from the body.
Without so much as a word, or skin-to-skin contact.
When The Human Animal waves goodbye,
it’s like waking up from a bad dream.
Susan L. Lin is a neurodivergent Taiwanese American storyteller who hails from southeast Texas and currently lives in southern California. She loves to dance. The poems in her submission are a series of explorations related to childhood trauma and chronic illness. Find more on the web at
susanllin.wordpress.com, on Twitter/X @SusanLLin, or on Instagram @susanlinosaur.