Merciel

The sting demands her flesh for mine bled
those many days ago. Open sores from pricks,
plastic poisoning made me sick, I still smell the piss
in my room whenever I return home and rest.

But I see no wound, not even a scar.
No absence of limb, only of fat. No absence of heart.
The ribs barely contain it. In the mirror no tears
but a face I recognize only in my oldest dreams.