Under These Bandages / July Ends
A new poem and an old one.
The first one was summoned by veins,
My first ring of name, spoiled by color and day.
This Cloth is not a mere shell for stains,
A guard for skin; no sir, something deep within.
Then why—you sense the pile of threads Crushed under the pages I carry in the stone box.
Pay no mind to the virgin Linseed reek,
A distraction from the burn I have now sustained.
It’s a choice imposed to hide and seek,
Under these bandages I keep the pain contained.
This is the first poem I have written on Substack. Something I haven’t tried to attempt in years. Huge thanks to
for posting updates on writing gigs. (Yes, this is a submission.) A big shout-out to all the growing poets on Substack. I follow some of them and they are outstanding! I would love to hear some feedback in the comments or DM. I have lost a lot of my past writings. Here is the one I found: