deepundergroundpoetry.com
Scabs
I.
in the late 18th century
the term scab was used
to describe anybody
that wouldn’t join a union
or refused to strike
wounds walking around
like regular people
a dichotomy of living
and need
II.
the worst scab I’ve ever tended
was a cigarette I put out on my arm
aged twenty, full of fear
burnt skin doesn’t heal like slices
little red halos turn white
the world buzzes for a moment
nothing but silence
and weak knees
III.
every piercing I’ve ever had
has been a gut punch
I remember my nose bridge
a year of tending punctures
with salt water, wiping crust
from an entry point
sometimes I’d get pierced
to dull the fall out of getting hit
I have 25 pieces of metal
you do the math
IV.
at night, as I lay in the dark
I think of my heart as cut
and raw
tough steak for the living
wondering if it pumps blood
or if I’ve patched it
nurtured it
healed it one slash at a time
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