needle by Gavan Duffy

the doctor

stops counting

at seven

jokes that this is a lucky

number

seas, sins, stitches

he tousles my hair

rubs his own scalp

jokes again

that there will be no scar

for a few years

at least

she had cried

while i bled

insisted

that i say it like

i mean it

to put things

back to the way

she

believed

they had been

i leaned forward

watched the ground

felt the wound

empty

make a hot progress

through my hair

over my cheeks

until i could taste

salt and metal

and watch

the lush

red tears

land safely

on my shoes

___________

Gavan Duffy writes poetry and short fiction. He is a member of the Scurrilous Squirrels writers group and has previously published in Crannog, Poetry Ireland Review, A New Ulster, The Stinging Fly, The Cormorant, Causeway, The Lake, Bangor Literary Journal, Stony Thursday Book, New Irish Writing, Boyne Berries, Skylight 47 among othrs.