i think that bruises are some
of the most beautiful things around
and they are better than cuts because
cuts scar and cuts stop hurting after a
drop of peroxide or rubbing alcohol
or whiskey from your liquor cabinet
but bruises can be pushed under clothing
and still throb, giving you a little reminder
of the hate that you've dyed onto yourself.
i used to take heavy metal hammers with
chipped wood grips and shiny clean tops
and pound them onto my knees and calves
and arms over and over, like nails until my flesh
stopped throbbing and began to ache like i broke
a bone and i stopped breaking myself when the
doctor's told me that my wrist was fractured.
when i was 12, a man with bloodshot eyes and
blonde hair sat next to me on the bus and told me
that he had hit his girlfriend for the first time the
night before. She had been out for drinks with some
guy from work and that when she walked in at half past 2,
she was tripping over herself and giggling and that after
he slapped her across the face, she was silent. he carried
her up to their bedroom and left her passed out in their bed
and he went out to a seedy bar and fucked some girl in the
dingy bathroom. i listened quietly and when he stood up to
get off the bus, i slipped my hands into his pocket and stole
his wallet, later gorging myself on ice cream and a movie with the
twenties that were inside.
i buy poises now and drop them by graves,
then go home and burn up all your letters.
(ashes ashes, we all fall down)
