Tender Is the Day After
Scratches and abrasions sensate,
stalking, doxing, ghosting drones
have pinched, clawed, and marked.
I remember the sharp edges of yesterday
but cannot recall the moments
when the bumps and bruises occurred,
yet here is the evidence beneath my skin
boiling up today as if another I
had fought his way through an avalanche of time.
I bathe my spectral wounds in virgin olive oil
and elderberries,
soak tender thoughts in aloe, the essence
of echinacea -
yet still nothing to see
and I wonder
if this jagged land is so wrongly put together
and I am so loosely stitched,
so easily in the way of its daggers
then I should not venture another day
of being in this worlds way.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2020
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