The Day After
I wear my hair up the day after
And a low, sweeping shirt collar
I make no attempts to conceal your marks on my neck
If you're embarrassed to see them there than you should have been more careful
I've decided that your shame is no longer my problem
I go to see my mother
For coffee and idle, awkward conversation
She stares but does not ask
I wonder what shape you take in her mind
How sharp she must think your teeth
I go to class, I go to work
I hold my little nephew
He presses a curious palm into one of the bigger bruises
His hands are of a far more innocent intent than I thought that skin was capable of receiving
I laugh and laugh until all at once I begin to cry