Green Peas at Stake

My Blood Redux

It seems to have been a while since,
trusting my act in the kitchen, I touched
the knife on the wrong edge, sliding
my thumb. The shock of blood, rediscovered
so red when fresh, spun out of the mind--with
the pain and humiliation--other
things that bled, while I blinked to
wave off carelessness, but the pattern
of the warm liquid zigzagged to
fill my perverse temper with
the recall of sharp-edged words that cut
like cutlery when he said I was full
of shit and I should watch out, as he
cast off my human skin and made
me bleed to a peculiar numbness.
Now, I hold my thumb to the light and
think, after the ointment, my blood
will clot again.


Prompt: Write a poem about rediscovering something