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Injury

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.

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