Some things never leave:
marks that are difficult
to erase— beet juice,
strawberry pulp, blood
in the middle of a sheet,
a nail pulled roughly
from its bed. Knees
rubbed raw on pavement.
A girl in my first
grade class was sick
and soiled herself one
morning; the teacher
had to clean her up
at the sink. And I
had nosebleeds
every day for more
than a month: pinched
nose, tilted head,
metallic clot that formed
in the back of my throat.
After the birth of my
last child, I staggered
up from the hospital bed
and dragged the IV
drip to the bathroom
but did not make it
in time. Until then
I didn’t know exactly how
many ways blood could
congeal: spongy
thickness; islands
marking irregular outlines
on white linoleum tile.
In response to Via Negativa: Piscean.