Under The Scar

A scar on my thumb tip 
that won’t heal underneath —
current marker of my decrepit
mortality — wound whose cause
I’ve long forgotten, stone scar
pulsing intermittently
with small but constant pain
each time it comes into contact
with anything — guitar neck,
keyboard, another finger — this last
the most persistent as I worry
and rub that tiny round 
into a nearly constant mini-scream —
why do I do this to myself, why don’t I
get it looked at, perhaps removed, 
why do I make it hurt more and more
until the inevitable day
the scar breaks away
from the new flesh underneath — 
so tender, raw, and pink — waiting
for its chance
to harden and mound up
and begin the cycle again —
as I do, as I do each time
I rise wounded from bed
these days, latter days
hard crusting over
raw sense — never 
healing so much that 
I can forget that it hurts — 
even if I don’t know anymore
why it does.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

One response to “Under The Scar

  • Eileen

    currently doing the same thing, knowing it makes no sense….human be- ing……..so non-sensible….so self-torturing……so leveling……so irresistible.

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