Flaw

a poem from my upcoming book; published books are at inkwhisper.gumroad.com

I ain’t a nick no more,
nor a cut,
nor a grunt spat from a stranger’s mouth.

I’m a botch
in their clean-cut plan,
my bones drag heavy
through dirt that don’t care to hold.

They look past me
like smoke choked with grime.
They grab at nothing,
not a wisp,
not my squint,
nor the Word.

My insides tangle,
gashes too raw to close.
Just a flaw,
a glint,
and folks gone to rot.

Dust packs my lungs,
a jolt,
that last kick,
when you rise and see
who stayed by your side.