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

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.

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 )

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