Always on mornings like these I wonder

Always on mornings like these I wonder
if the early light of winter days
and the reverberating noises of this city
conspire to shake me from precious slumber.

I study my reflection after
warm morning absolutions

see a wide, dark scar
etched into my skin – it was

so long ago now it must have been
so painful must have burned, bled
must have throbbed for days...

And yet today, had you asked,
I would hardly have remembered how
it even got there.