Opening the old wound

A task not fit for Mondays

Or Friday nights or weekends

Or workdays or evenings.

Opening the old wound

Comes at still times

It hits at night, when

Finally quiet

You peel back the bandage.

Opening the old wound

Sheds the second skin

Protecting sore places

Which won’t heal.

Opening the old wound

To peer at raw flesh

Which still leaks

As if you haven’t spent

Night after night after night

Asking for it not to hurt.

Opening the old wound

A grief, a trap

A comfort

A witness to what you endured.