"A Play Where You Already Know What Is Wrong" by Christina Kusterer

[YOUR BODY enters the stage. YOUR BODY looks exactly as you expect. There is a

tree growing from their back. It is Spring, or at least there are leaf buds poking from

hundreds of shoots where stems will meet branches. The shadow from the tree takes up

half the stage.]

ANOTHER BODY (normal): You have a tree growing from your back. [OR] Did you get a

haircut? [OR] Do you have something new you’d like to share? [OR] Something’s different

about you.

YOUR BODY: I have a tree growing from my back. [OR] No, not in a while. [OR] Yes, I’ve

heard the groundhog did not see its shadow. [OR] Yes–I got a haircut a few months back.

ANOTHER BODY: You should probably see a doctor for all that. I know a great dermatologist.

[ANOTHER BODY waves their arms in a grand gesticulation with the words “all that.”]

YOUR BODY: They’ll charge me to tell me I have a tree growing out of my back.

[A pause. ANOTHER BODY is confused. They remain confused.]

ANOTHER BODY: I could trim the branches you cannot reach?

[YOUR BODY nods, too enthusiastic. They nearly tip over. They grab ANOTHER

BODY for balance. ANOTHER BODY steadies them. There is no snapping of bones or

twigs.]

Christina Kusterer is a fiber-arts enthusiast, aspiring bird identifier, and poet. Her writings generally center around bodies and what it means to have one. She received her BA in English from Michigan State University with a concentration in Creative Writing. When not working, writing, or hobbying, she enjoys attempting to run (but mostly walks).