Sunday, June 10, 2007

Bruised

I can feel them watching my hand. Mum said to put a band-aid on it. But violetly blue, the bruise still leaks out the side. Still, a week later.

They ask,
what happened?
Oh, the dog.
It bit you?
Mm yeah.

The doctor dog, who bit me for a blood test.
Pulling off my socks, we examined my feet together. Nope. Ankles patterned with scratchy scars that look like veins. We both know there's nothing under there. Tap, tap, squeeze, pump your arm. Nothing.

I wait, breath held, can't look. I can feel his tension, just want that sigh of relief as the veins fill his little vials red. Finally, in quiet desperation, he lowered the tournequit over my head. Will they ever come back? I asked, holding a small cloud of cotton wool to my neck. He looked at me, face expressionlessly smooth. My veins? I repeated. Maybe something caught his attention, through the window, blinds half-drawn. He looked away.

6 Comments:

Blogger Michelle's Spell said...

Beautiful description, as always. Love the juxtaposition of the delicate prose with the violence of the procedure.

11:05 AM  
Blogger Lazy said...

They come back eventually, deceptively plump and bulge-y, and if you hit them with a needle two or three times, they go away again.

6:42 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Tui, i've just spent the entire day reading all of your blog. I stumbled across it early this morning and haven't been able to stop reading. You are an extremely intelligent woman and i'm happy for you that you're now clean. I wish you every happiness and luck that life can bring, keep smiling. Hayley, UK.

3:08 PM  
Blogger happy otter said...

Hi T.
Your blog is a thing of rare beauty.
Hielige!
I

8:17 AM  
Blogger tui said...

thx everyone..

8:13 PM  
Blogger IVY said...

Very Nice Ending.

12:58 AM  

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