flex points in poetry

  • May 28, 2014, 3:42 p.m.
  • |
  • Public

skinned my knee on the dance floor pretty bad
stumbled and fell and laughed it off
but later in the night I had to admit
there was so much blood
there was just so much blood
hell of a time pre-treating and washing
the pants so that they weren't ruined entirely
it was a good thing the pants were midnight blue
dark enough where after enough washing
the burgundy stain wouldn't show through
but I skinned my knee on the dance floor awfully
the kind of thing that has to leave a mark

I heal pretty quick from superficial things
not like a superhero in the movies or anything
but a little bit faster than the average
just enough of a difference to note it
shaving cuts and hang-nails
fade away pretty quickly
from my flesh
the problem with my skin is
all the scars on the points where I flex

things don't heal the same
when you're wounded at a place in constant motion
when you're cut upon a section that moves a thousand times a day
your kneecap for example
your elbows for another
one of your eyelids
or your heart

my knee did not heal like my face does
from a passing razors gash
or like my fingertips are known to
when made victim of my nervous nibbles
because every time I got up or down
every time I shook and kicked in my sleep
the skin on my knee would flex and stretch
that baby scab would stretch and crack
the thin veneer of platelets protecting my insides
would break through and weep clear tears
through protein tears
and have to repeat a portion of its work
again

so two weeks after mangling my knee upon the dance floor
the damn thing's really only one-half better
pink tender new skin at the edges of the old hurt
a small mass of weird red-brown crust
still in the middle of the mess
still sitting there aching
still occasionally breaking
taking a good deal longer
than any small things to heal

this is what happens to the wounds
on the flex points that keep moving
on the shifting parts
on the joints
the ragged pink seams still
on my knees
on my knuckles
on my heart

they don't heal right
in the places that don't stay just loose
that don't just stay tight
fucked up my knee falling on the dance floor
and unlike the shaving nicks from that afternoon
the weird shifting scab remains
and the scab will maintain
for much much longer
than any of his superficial hang-nail brothers
and this is how the skin works
this is how our sin works
this is the nature of the heart


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