I had better not scratch

I had better not scratch

It itches,
this odd blood in my veins;
An irritation
that throbs irregular venom-stings,
tumefying the heart
like a lie whispered to a child: Come with me; I won’t hurt you,
words that dance
over milk carton pictures;
words that swim around
in broken parents’ cereal bowls.

It itches,
this invisible darkness;
wild, white fire
stripping away the core of the soul,
softening bones,
like a branding iron on the skin of a heifer: Sh, sh, it’s only a cow,
a marking that leaves
more than just number;
a marking that lives
under the skin.

I had better not scratch.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s