The word’s acidity
balances the body,
dissolving metal in flesh,
re-moving pins tenderly placed in tendons
where liget ligaments hung listless.
Bones never cracked open
with clear lines to re-fuse
but chipped and changed,
calcifying into sculptures my artist soul
shaped without consent.
Fragile and strong,
these truths sewn together with skin
in the game no one signed up to play;
so I forgot to play anyway,
to spit out grass and blood
and smile, because the dirt tastes good
after taking a kick in the teeth
and despite the pain,
it’s nice to feel
happy.
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