In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

63 Haute Couture Bodkin, press holes in my shoulders so I may lace on my arms with ribbon, gams held on with garters. Corseted, I am a dress form notched to zero, a ribless slip of a thing, wire hanger with a head. My insides shift, labyrinthine under fine bone stays whittled thin and mean as pins. I will be like nothing you’ve seen, my flesh a piecework dress appliquéd by hand, pricks of blood dotting each stitch: I will make myself a gorgeous Frankenstein, worth millions, one-of-a-kind. ...

Share