Poem 12 ± November 12,2018

Mark Ward
Under, Neat

I bite at the socially acceptable
part of my body: the nail.
A tide held back by teeth,
the quick meets the skin,
the nerves threaten escape.

I pick my nails with themselves.
Occasionally the picker falters
becoming a sliver slid under
a nail, now all nerve,
a faltering, a chest tightening.

I press against it, feeling the flood,
a transmission underneath the skin.
Prodding, I control the traffic lights,
the reasoning. I catch my breath,
acclimatizing, the lab rat failing the test.

 

 

Mark Ward is a poet from Dublin, Ireland. His work has featured in Poetry Ireland Review, Skylight47, Tincture, Assaracus and many more. He is the founding editor of Impossible Archetype, a journal of LGBTQ+ poetry. His first chapbook, Circumference, is out now from Finishing Line Press. http://astintinyourspotlight.wordpress.com

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