Internal Medicine
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
And you will say: ‘Love! Love!
without your wound
being closed.
~ Lorca, “Towards” (Hacia)
You strip the skin and flesh first. Then you break
The ribs. You have to get far past the wound
To show it that it doesn’t count. Its ache
Is colored like defeat but not cocooned
In heart’s protection, injury yet one
That need not spread its wings, a would-be moth
But maybe you can give it to the sun
