Arriving at a Shelter from Violence
Your wounds are fresh
and still too deep
to paint your surfaces blue.
Only pinpoints of blood
decorate your skin,
like freckles on little girls
before we train them
to blush, gloss,
conceal.
The red dots are petechiae,
and I connect them.
Blood spills from your capillaries,
the last destinations of your cardio vasculature,
the furthest reaches of your heart.
Sit with me,
and I will hold your hand
until strangers no longer stare and judge,
until the bruises bloom
and fade,
and you remain.
Anna Kander
Anna Kander is a writer in
the Midwest. Her work is published or forthcoming in journals including Wax
Seal, Leveler, and Train. Find her at http://annakander.com or on Facebook at http://facebook.com/
Tags:
Poetry