Today’s offering is a poem. I know it’s spectacularly bad form to give you a picture of the subject of the poem but here is one anyway.
Brighton beach c.2015
Her sticking-plastered finger sweeps the rim,
and dips to trace along the gilded seam
that marks the keloid thickening, the harm.
They break them just to work the solder in,
you know? She scoops. To make a better thing.
Then lifts it to the light. A cup-filled palm.
The dip and sup of what we still might learn
if we redeem the pleasure from the sin.
She leans against the shingle bank. The crack
of bottle cap torn free from needle teeth.
A slug of good, red wine against the scars.
We pass our cup from hand to hand. An arc
of gold from sea to sky, a broken need.
A fragile mend. A bloody work of art.
© Allie Rogers 2015