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There is a subtler pain
below the gross pain
that rages at the violence done
inside my face. The spaces between
my teeth hurt, sinuses weep with
remembering what doctors did
under cover of anesthetic.
The plates of my face
moved, partitions of cartilage
rehung, bone under delicate membrane
shaved. This is lasting
remodel; anthropologists,
if they stumble across my skull
will know how deep
this transgression. My body, while
grateful for anesthesia, is also
outraged, will not allow opiates
to pass for apology.

      — Richard Beban