I don't know why I kept it
or at least for some reason
I like to say that.
Of course I do.
An old sticking plaster
no longer sticky,
used, of no use?
On the side that faces in,
my blood,
where she had scratched my hand
(unintentionally?)
when we fought.
And on the side that faces out,
a child's sticker,
(Thomas the tank engine)
prized and valuable.
Whether or not to put it in the bin?
David Taylor
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-wound/
