papercuts always feel
like they have salt I.V.s
dripping into them.
once or twice every hour,
after they’ve conveniently
reminded you that they exist,
you have to pull on the skin
around them just to see
how deep they really go
and to count
the specks of foreign material
swimming about in the
questionably healthy clear liquid
building up and
draining out of your fingertip.
newsprint invariably
seeps into your slice;
the surgical incision
that doesn’t quite draw blood
and you can always remember
the zipper sensation
of your skin opening up
when it happened.
Posts Tagged ‘Skin’
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