Old Blood

Shayana Foroutan

There is a scar on my lower back that I just can’t leave alone 

It’s about the size of a cigarette

and real easy to reach

so I twist and turn and rip the skin whenever I get the chance. 

You can read me by the condition it’s in:

This old scar is as raw, red, and open as the words

I promise, I’m still thinking of you

I’ll obsessively pick at this until there’s nothing left. 

I don’t know why—It wants to, I feel it—

But I won’t just let it heal itself.

Trust me, it’s tried—

skin regenerating again and again.

My body must be so tired of this

rebirth after

rebirth after rebirth after rebirth.

My heart and my chest and my feet walking back to you are all tired 

of this rebirth after

rebirth after rebirth after rebirth.

I just want to know, I think,

that I am capable of regenerating.

That my body will do it,

my body will grant me this rebirth after

rebirth after rebirth after rebirth.