Head to Hands
R.C. McClennen

Grating away
Knuckles on my mattress.
Rubbing
The skin
Into the spring
Filled
Naked
Mattress. That
Moment got me
Clarity. Clarity
I did not have
Before. On the phone
I picked up
That maliciousness
Which takes a bite
Of your brain and
Makes you
Feel dumb. With her
Background noise and
Her pointed criticism
Of life and mine,
I buried my pain
Until now
Translating my head to hands
With red marks
And spiced rum.