Broken Tramp Stamp

Remember that small, but powerful cluster of set-in scars-
scratches made by city cement, at the small of my back?
This pain doesn't come close to that one by a long shot.
This one- dull, inactive, tight and twisted like a schoolmarm
caught in the doldrums between empathy and utter hatred
for those fucking kids.
Releasing slowly ---sharply---
down my ass and into my legs.
Your wound went upwards, through my gut, eight-fold
reaming my heart
and my head followed.
Small bits of cement still live in there, to remind me
of what fun that can be had for free.

~ M. Lucia