Flesh Wound

Issue 6 | Summer 2021 | Peter O'Donovan

 

 

   the barest nick
where smoothness
   used to slide
where waves
   now emanate
lick soft sounds
   along the day
an almost-pain
   as meditation
a tiny chime
   within the body
the faintest call
   from some abyss
I can’t make out
   but can’t dismiss