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Cathrine Wignall

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Crater

At first light, his first thought
was to see if it had gone,
a deep gaping hole
a crater in flesh -
full of blood,
blood so dark - as to be
more black than red.

He had hoped it would vanish
if he slept on it,
some vile figment
of his imagination,
yet, still it remained.
Revulsion filled him
as blood filled the hole.

The hole was evidence
of shameful actions,
stored freshly in his memory.
Efforts to forget, failed
as the hole continued
to fill with dark blood,
in endless presentation.

A desperate need to clean it,
to fix it or just mend it
occupied his thoughts.
Maybe if he ignored it,
it would simply disappear,
but the hole continued
to grow in size, and to fill.

He wanted to ask for help,
request some advice,
only embarrassment held tight.
What would people think
of this ghastly blood-hole?
So he wiped it clean,
and covered it up.

Ultimately it grew huge,
wild and feral,
mocking his feeble efforts
to cover its ugly display.
One enormous gaping hole,
a deep pool of black blood
on show, for all to see.

 

Page(s) 9-10

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