the last wound
on my hand was the last wound
still yanking me around
long after the majors had healed
and a thin layer of medical stuff
didn't stop the blood
and I worried that in bed
it would make wide red arcs
across my linens
across my linens
sketching out a mysterious logo
that would broadcast my vulnerable condition
to every dark spirit on the block
my shitty luck
like a banquet to fill their bellies
how could I do my sleep
thinking these horrible things
believing the wound to be bigger than me
 

 

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