square

i think of the archaeology of
fear as i watch the nurse
swab the skin and tap the
needle twice. the more
sterile a space, the
quicker the body
remembers.

i taught myself young to
link needles to healing:

the drugs will loosen
this vice grip

the saline will find my
hand in the fog

& my blood always tells
a better story than me.

my only condition is
i need to see it happen
most will make a fist &
look away, but my eyes
never leave the syringe.

i need to look
square in the eye of
what hurts me,

i’m not afraid of
what i understand.