Reflection on a wound  

Trying to locate
an old wound.  
I cannot gauge its depth,  
nor the edge of its corruption.  
 
I long for anamnesis,  
for the reassembly of these  
shards of remembrance.  
 
I struggle to recall  
what abandoned love  
may still cling to on this
blurry carousel of memory.  
 
I pray I find a way  
to cauterize this wound.  
To exchange wound for scar,  
and slip into oblivious sleep.