I have a wound, see look at the cut on my hand
That’s not a wound, says the politician
You’re putting it on
To get benefits
The doctor concurs and says—
It’s nothing
I must agree
Your hand is fine
Yet there is blood, blood on the floor
So much blood
It drips from under your coat
And the room smells like iron
Put away the hand, and take off your coat
Ah, so you’re nervous—you don’t want to
You won’t show me the real wound
Even though my shoes are slick
With your blood
Listen, I am not a doctor—
I am not a politician
I don’t deal in clever lies
Called law and science
I deal in the real
Take off the coat
The others will deny the wound
For they are also bleeding
I am covered in their blood too
It’s invisible blood, by the way
That’s why few can see it
But they can smell it
Here, I have taken my coat off
To show you my scar
It is healed now
This is where the bear
Clawed me in the crib
And when he is near
I feel him in the wound
(This bear lives in the sky)
Now your coat is off
The work can begin
I wear the horns
That make me a poet
That make me a shaman
Now I will pluck the splinter
From the real wound.