memorial

you came home bandaged,
wearied white. not hiding,
you said. just healing.

I wanted to see where you'd been colored in,
where blood mixed with ink
and skin. I wanted to know how it hurt you.

I wanted to fingerprint your shaken cells,
sore and dividing in silence.

***

you woke up aching,
bindings unraveled
and colors bled.

cradling your arm, I peeled away
the sterile linen second skin,
exposing

bruised and freckled
the tender pigment
glistening pink:

a full peach blooming
in the shade of your shirtsleeve.