nothing lesser
Glass sears.
Skin pulled taut—
blood rims, dark and \ immediate.
I walk into the welt,
call the sting by name,
let the heat strip me raw.
Pain is tribunal.
It cuts the fog to bone,
leaves only bruise,
only flood,
only fire.
I bare my teeth to the world—
not pleading, not softening,
only the arc of strike.
I am marked by flame,
I rise through black.
Fire can touch me.
Pain can carve me.
Nothing lesser will.
She said: you’ve been shrinking your gait. Your body wants to take up more space. The glass dragged, the pain bloomed. It’ll bruise, you’ll be sore. But this is the quickest path to relief.