unmatchable

I pull out

my patched I

There's a new cut in it,

bleeding gently, persistently

I try to suture it,

but the stitches hurt more

than the blade—that blade

made a clean, sparkling pain,

a sudden fizz, a breath-catch—

I try to anaesthetise,

but numbness is unthinkable,

terrifying, now,

after that blade

so I give up and leave the cut to bleed.

It's the first time I've tried

this. The cut will heal

in its own way—slowly, I suppose,

with multiple levels of soreness and aching—

ooze, bloom, branch, become

a structure, an unlikely sculpture—

antler, feather, delta, twirl-twig tree-limb—

fascinating, unmatchable, gnarly, unpredictable,

lovelier than fractal—

grown from an old carved name,

traced and tried by many hands

© Copyright, 2013, Janet Jackson.
All rights reserved.