On A Scale From Naught To Ten


names slide past
as each tender
of my tender flesh
explains their role
and where i am
and i refuse
to feel the pain
so everything’s a 3
until it’s not
and i pass out again
to wake
to lights and faces
who i warn again
about the meds i take
that make me bleed
and yes it’s 3
as i’m scissored bare
but for my socks

i remember again
to tell them again
the name of my wife
and make them again
write her number

and yes

it’s 3