Unsightly Edges – A Poem
By Ama Danesi
There’s a knock, a hesitant rap on my nape
from pain that’s testing, peering over
my delicate collar-bone for a crack
in my steely resolve.
My need for more is a palmed heat.
I’m done with squatters. He can still smell me
in his nostrils. He lingers, a familiar high –
Every pain has a home, a coach, an itch
my arteries make poor hallways – C’est le vie
Inside me there’s a chisel, a hammer
and a chipping away.
Sandpaper the hurting, unclog the
bleeding, I pretend he feels the same – till I can’t
He’ll remain a lump, holding on to unsightly edges.