Of All the Violence I Have Known

Of all the violence I have known
And I've known the hum
Of a hand through the air
I've known the tightening of a fist in my hair
A forearm weight across the tiny bird hollow of my neck
The place where words die

I've known the grind of bone against bone
A butchers block pelvis
Sharp against my own
I've known the negative
Of a hand
Etched upon my thigh
In the darkroom of some forgotten instinct
A cool acceptance
I am breakable
You can break me
All you have to do is try

But of all the violence I have known
The longest mark by far
Is the slow assassination of the years
In which I loved
Or tried to at least
In the way that I was taught
By every pastel posed soap drenched
Magazine bought
The paper cuts
Inviting the leeches to the feast
Each tiny pull of the knife
Such slow end
Etching epidermal patterns of me
A bonsai twisted endlessly
Cutting through young skin
Continuing while the cells knit together again
Platelets clown-dancing
The great comedy
The camouflage
Of breaking
Ice into one
Refreezing its wound
Closing up the damage done

But all the violence I have known
Though I'm whole now
I think
Silent
And wild
And tall
It lies below the surface
Mosquito trapped in amber
Still fat with prehistoric blood
And ruin
It lies below the surface in us all