spring downpour
over a toy giraffe
dogfight
© Rachel Green March 2024
the bruise below my eye
was from your glancing blow
and tumble, as we fell.
It pains me less than other woes:
winter's hand upon my chest
the burn from distilled vinegar,
the weeping pustules on my breast
and yet, 'tis this glancing blow
that others see, and comment
that I should be free
of this and yet I smile
and tell them I consent.
© Rachel Green March 2024
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