ERROR 207: CORRUPTED FLESH

My right leg is the bridge now—

not metaphor, not myth—

just titanium where bone used to be,

rust blooming at the screws.

It grinds with the weight of years I cannot rewind,

  every step a groan in the foundation.

I don’t know where I’m supposed to go.

I don’t know if I was ever meant to arrive.

ERROR 303: VOICE BOX MALFUNCTION

Yesterday, my throat spat a swarm of pill bottles.

They rattled against the hardwood, left labels peeled open

like mouths mid-gasp, instructions I’ll never follow.

Morning’s voicemail from my mother said,

   “Let me know if you need anything.”

I laughed until my ribs played a dial tone,

breath caught between the beep and the message.

ERROR 505: INVALID DESTINATION

The powers think they’re funny.

Last night, my left eye rewound itself to 2013—

I watched my parents hold my paper-thin body

down and cradle my head as they pray

for the faucet’s liquid-kiss

to take away all this pain; watched myself pretend

this is normal.

ERROR 101: INVALID COMMAND

Today, my spine unspools into a film reel

  of every hospital ceiling I’ve memorized.

Guess I’m the projectionist now.

Guess I’m the ghost in the fluorescent light.

ERROR 606: SYSTEM UPDATE REQUIRED

The manual says: “Prepare for next transformation.”

But the pages are blank, and the ink is expired insulin

and communion wafers gone stale.

I duct-tape my wrists to the present,

  practice standing still.

I hear the pill bottles rolling under my bed.

I feel the bridge creaking.

The film reel’s burning through.

Operator’s note: This is not a metaphor.

Author Bio: Benjamin Rigby is a senior at Fresno State, graduating in May with his degree in Political Science. His writing explores themes of impermanence, nostalgia, desire, the body, identity, and tension between control and surrender. His work has been published in The San Joaquin Review, Words With Weight, and Behemoth. When he’s not writing, he enjoys camping with friends, late-night drives, and obsessing over niche media. He plans to continue writing both creative and political works after graduation.

Recollections: Of Being is a literary column brought to you by The Collegian, founded and organized by Aura Peredia. We publish writing and art, either political or personal, to create a bridge between varying valley voices.

For previous installments of Recollections: Of Being, click here.