"In the Trenches"
Feel for the teenaged girl who cuts
herself so she can control some-
thing in a divided household
but cannot bear the dozen pricks
of the thin lidocaine needle
so she will not feel any of
the one hundred twenty stitches
needed to lace her wrists back up.
Sutures march like rows of barbed wire
across this no-man's land of skin.
Her mother whispers in her hair,
while her father stands guard, arms crossed,
watching from the foot of the bed.
My hand cramps around the forceps
as I bend down to sew again.










