A Note Shaped Like a Name

Fury lives in the gulf between the eye that meets mine, or theirs, and the stranger it sees wearing our face. Blood writes its slow verdict down the thigh, the body keeping record unread. watched. Every word is forged in my mouth or theirs. Your throat keeps trying a note shaped like a name. But when I open it, someone else’s history falls out. And still, so still, still we are, still bleeding, into that morning that scrolls past.