On Open Wounds
By Ruby Schiff
The cut on my elbow
Has just begun to scab Summer to Spring
Fell to Sprung
Phases of you
In the fall I fell
Sticky summer sun
Blinded me
Running into you
I knocked you over
And the pavement struck back
Freshly bought Chuck Taylors
Vanished out of sight
Warm fuzzy sleeves
Housing raw burgundy
Drip drip down my fingertips
Yet no one could see
Ripping off the bandaid
Revealing butter skin
The final phase of healing
A season made for me
But she just fell
Glowing apple red
My bare butter skin
Melts once again.