Scar
pajamas crumpled on the floor
blood lines blot green cotton
sticky and sore to the touch
patterned red-dark on purpled skin
was leather made for this?
buckled with brass
to beat an ass?
snow freely drifts
inching up the inside sill
wet and compactable
slamming at heat from the radiator
a cauldron of cold and hot
screaming at hearts that never thaw
silent solo moans
rock back and forth
stab at the ugly
“That did not happen!”
prayers for spring
held and blocked
by hate seeds buried
in February’s tundra
swift strike and shout
mirror image and sound
eternal throughout